The Catalyst
by my-chemical-romanoff
Summary: When a Hydra-run drug corporation creates a new Super Soldier serum, Natasha is brought in for revenge. And to save an unlikely hostage.
1. Natasha

She steps into the break room and that's where she spots Barton. He's at the table, hunched over a spread of papers for his latest mission with his face down and fingers ripping at his hair. Natasha sees this as a normal thing. The first scenario that plays in her mind is that he's taking the next available flight, but he's promised Bobbi a romantic dinner, and this is the third time in a row and work excuses aren't going to cut it.

Clint glances over at her and quickly shuffles the papers into one sloppy stack.

"Uh oh," she arches a brow and draws closer to the table. "Am I going to be jealous of your new mission? I didn't get an invite."

"You won't like it." He knows it's too late. There's no hiding from her and it's impossible to sneak a lie past her. "Some drug thing overseas." All he can do is sugarcoat it and hope she keeps her nose out of it just long enough so that he can be out of here and on his plane.

"Oh, yeah?" She struts past him and notices that his face is oddly pale. Natasha opens the fridge and pretends she's deciding on what soda to take. In reality, she's got Clint in her peripheral vision. He's thumbing through his papers and makes sure that two are shuffled into the center. Those are the ones he's _really _hiding.

His chair screeches against the floor and Natasha's head whips around. "Gotta go," he mutters, but she's already onto him. He's trapped in her web, and he's not getting out.

"What's in the paperwork, Barton?" Natasha asks in a colder tone.

He casually heads for the door, avoiding her glare. "Some drug dealer. I bet Fury's got you in on it, too," he lies. The reality is that Fury doesn't want Natasha anywhere near this, and after reading the briefing, he knows why. "I'll call you," he promises.

"Okay." Natasha walks towards the table and pulls out a chair. Right as Clint's pushing open the door, Natasha runs up to him and forces his arm behind his back.

"Natasha!" he shouts. Beads of sweat form along his forehead, and he clings to his mission briefing for dear life. "It's FuturePharm Corp!" he hisses.

She willingly lets go now that she's got him talking. There's one rule to their partnership, and that's no secrets.

"They're with Hydra."

"Then why are you so flustered?"

"They've got human test subjects." His mouth forms a thin line. "Human experimentation… That's not something the Director and I want you to deal with."

"The Super Soldier serum?"

Clint falls eerily silent and averts his gaze. All he can think about is how Natasha had to suffer over being unmade by a group of sick, power-hungry bastards.

"That's what this is," Natasha assumes, and she assumes right. "Is the Red Room behind this?"

"We don't know." His response is honest. "Fury's been onto this Killian guy for a while. Apparently, he's a former dealer on the black market. Now he's started this FuturePharm company and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s been all over it."

"A corporation run by Hydra," Natasha scoffs. "And we're sure they've remade the serum?"

"Not really…" Clint hands her a page that references their target's product. "It's not a perfect replication. All it does is increase the brain's potential."

Natasha snatches the paper from him and in big, bold letters across the top, it reads **CPH4**. She skims the page for information and eyes the attached picture of enlarged bits of cerulean crystals at the bottom. Essentially, the drug is a hormone, targeting brain cells and guaranteeing a wider expanse of knowledge. And to top it off, it's advertised as a recreational drug. "They plan on getting away with selling this?" Natasha nearly crumbles the paper in her hand. This is no Super Soldier injection, but it looks just as dangerous.

"Only on the black market."

"Why haven't we taken this Killian guy down already?"

"Everything we've got regarding this is all word of mouth," Clint replies. "But today we've picked up that four hostages were taken in. Fury wants me and some others to investigate. We already have every phone and computer of that company tapped."

She's satisfied with the answer, and after she shoves Clint aside, it's on to Nick Fury's office to give him a speech about being comfortable with anything. Her past can't be a liability. Natasha deserves to be on this mission just as much as Clint.

She's gone from the room and it's then that Clint grabs his phone to call their boss. "I had to tell her," he begins, "but I left out the hostages."

* * *

><p>"What's this about Agent Barton getting a drug assignment?" Natasha storms into her boss's office and looks him straight in the eye.<p>

Nick had a feeling that this confrontation was coming, so he's prepared for how to deal with the situation. He had to give Clint credit for _trying _to keep this a secret. "This is personal," he warns with a cold stare. "As your friend, Natasha, trust me when I say that this mission isn't for you."

She slams her palms against his desk, a childish action, but she doesn't appreciate being underestimated. "I know this is personal!" she growls. "Hydra's attempting to replicate the serum-the serum they used on **me**!"

"I won't have this turning into a revenge mission."

"They're planning to **sell** this, Nick!" she seethes. A bunch of dumb kids will throw their money to some stranger promising them the high of their lives. They'll have a time to remember, alright. Having one's freedom taken and given to enemy hands wasn't what Natasha wanted. The Red Room ruined her life, and she doesn't wish for that to happen to anyone else.

Nick notices the fire in her eyes begin to fade. She's reflecting on her own past and it's not healthy. "This isn't just about the drug," he calmly explains. Barton may have leaked the mission, but he didn't mention the hostages' identities. He reaches across his desk and flips over a page with a black and white photo. "I can't keep anything from you, can I?" He slides the paper across the desk and watches as the colour drains from Natasha's face.

There's a photocopy of a picture of a young woman staring back at the agent. It's a fairly recent photo, too, one used in a passport. Natasha would know. She was there when the picture was taken. The woman in the photo stares back at Natasha. Their features are eerily identical, but that's to be expected for blood relations. "They got Lucy?" Her voice is hollow. Of all people, they picked _her. _They had their pick of thousands of people, and they chose _her. _

"Agent Barton is going to safely escort her back here," Nick vows, lacing his fingers together atop the desk. "I've just gotten word that she's been in a holding cell for almost an hour."

"And the drugs?"

Nick hesitates, but he might as well say it. "Bagged inside her stomach." He turns to his computer screen to check if any of Killian's men have had any recent cell phone activity. So far, there's been nothing new since word of a young blonde was being shackled until further notice.

"You're not telling me no to this, Nick!" Natasha threatens. "I need to be there. Not Clint!"

He knowingly nods his head. "I'd like to stop you, but that's not happening, is it?" She flashes him an intimidating glare. "Promise me you bring Killian back alive." That's his only precaution.

Natasha wordlessly turns and heads for the door. "When it's time to kill him, you let me pull the trigger." She lowers her hand on the brass handle. "And Nick." She turns her head for one final look at her boss. "Don't tell her father."

Lucy had always been her father's daughter. He didn't need to hear that his only daughter was dragged into a pharmaceutical scheme run by terrorists. Despite domestic life being an utter failure for two covert heroes, Natasha didn't wish that man any pain. After a clean break from the Murdock name and full custody of their naïve three-year-old, Lucy was all his. As heartless as this makes the Black Widow seem, she still cares. She cares far too much, and that's why she had to let her little Lucy go. Natasha still keeps an eye on her, though. The child could fly off to Taipei to party her little heart out and skip as many classes as she wanted, but Natasha had a way of keeping tabs on her.

She hurries back to her apartment to pack a bag and text Barton that she's been added to the mission and that she needs his briefing packet emailed ASAP. Her partner's already boarded a S.H.I.E.L.D. jet, and Natasha prepares to follow after him. Like hell some Red Room bullshit will use another Romanoff as their guinea pig. It was just as Fury said- this is personal.


	2. Lucy

Her mind feels fuzzy, but not the kind of hung-over fuzzy. This feels more like a 'knocked out and under some hard drugs' blur. She's temporarily blinded and breathing heavily. That's not helping her, though. It's only sucking a dusty sack into her mouth and she wonders if she'll suffocate before the Mafia-men kill her.

Since when did she start making such stupid decisions? Leave it to her stupid, trashed, rebellious mind to get her into this situation. Well, it was technically _Richard's _fault. Then again, maybe she shouldn't have accepted his drink. And the dance…And the other five, six drinks he bought her. Hell, she never even learned the guy's last name! His ass was nice, though…Lucy forces her breathing to even out. Panicking won't help her now. The deed is done. _Calm down, Lucy, _she tells herself. _Just stay calm… and think… What's the last thing you remember? _

_Richard. _That's the first thing she can clearly recall. She draws in another deep breath and feels tiny cloth particles enter her throat. _Okay, _she reasons with herself. _There was Richard. And he called you today. You met with him, joked around, and then… the briefcase._ She holds her breath and can feel the fog clouding her brain start to lift. _That's right. _She wiggles her wrist and hears a light jingle from a set of handcuffs. _That bastard cuffed you to this…_

The cab comes to a halt and a large, calloused hand grabs her arm and begins to drag her away. Her boots scrape against dirt and gravel and she nearly stumbles over. Another hand roughly snatches her other arm and Lucy feels her feet leave the ground for a second.

She feels a slight breeze as chilled air hits her body. They're inside a building now. Lucy holds her breath as she prepares for the worst. The men seizing her arms halt and hold her in place. Straight ahead, she hears a series of gears and cogs rev up, then stop. A _ding _is heard, a harmless, gentle sound, but it makes Lucy see red. So much red…

A set of elevator doors open, followed by nearing footsteps. "Perfect," says a man's voice.

She should feel relieved to hear her native tongue spoken, but she recognises this voice, and the pieces are finally coming together. Suddenly, her hazy memory completely clears up. She thinks back to the locked briefcase given to her by Richard. 'Paperwork' he told her. _Paperwork my ass! _she wants to shout at him…But Richard is dead. She's forced into an elevator and she hears that unholy _ding. _Her stomach unpleasantly churns as the lobby shootout replays in her mind.

_Richard's the first victim. One shot straight past a glass wall and into his chest. Lucy can't look away. She watches him die and suddenly, she's in a horrible nightmare that she's not waking up from. Right as she's watching him fall, she's grabbed by a mob of men in suits, angrily spouting their native tongue while showing off their guns to the hotel's fleeing civilians. Lucy's panicking as she's dragged off, but she puts up a fight, kicking and screaming, and trying to think like her mother. Unlike _**her**_, Lucy doesn't feel calm enough to kick one of these surrounding men in the nuts. Fear has her nerves shaken, and she's a sobbing mess as she's carried off into the elevator. "Please, please, let me go!" she begs, tears and mascara streaming down her cheeks. A man beside her holds up the stainless steel briefcase that she's been linked to. "N-No!" she stammers. "That's not mine!" _

_The man can't understand her English, nor can he comprehend the sheer terror in her eyes._

_The doors seal shut and Lucy wildly looks around at the men as she struggles to catch her breath. Everyone huddles close and Lucy kicks something with her shoe. She glances down and feels the bile rise in her throat. _

Ding!

_There at her feet lies a man, rather, what _used _to be a man. His skull is cracked open to reveal gooey chunks and dark crimson seeping out from the fatal wound._

_She clamps a hand to her mouth and looks away, but there's blood all over the floor and she seems to be the only one with the humanity to care. The elevator doors begin to part, and two men seize her arms once again. A man dressed to the nines greets them and Lucy wonders if this man will choose to let her free. _

_But he won't._

_There's another gunshot that leaves her ears ringing. She sees the light leave the man's eyes as he drops to the floor. There's a gruesome _crack _as he lands, and Lucy sees that h_is fall forced him to land on his arm the wrong way.

_By now, the acid's burning her throat. She swings her briefcase at the man to her right to make him let go. Her shaking legs can barely take one step, so she pivots away from the corpse and lurches forward to empty the contents of her stomach all over the floor. She feels a gentle nudge against her shoulder and she turns, wiping an excess trail of drool and vomit from her lips._

_Her captor offers her a handkerchief, which she accepts with a trembling hand. _

_There's an exchange of dialogue between the men, but Lucy can't understand a word. It's not Mandarin, but maybe if she can regain her voice, she can try reasoning with them in what little she knows of the language. _

_A man in a white suit at the far end of the room rises from a chair behind his desk and approaches her. He gestures at the briefcase, then her._

_"N-no," she replies in unsteady Chinese. "I don't know what this is." _

_He grabs the case with his large hand and chuckles when he sees the set of handcuffs that bind her to it. He says something, maybe it's Korean, to the man holding Lucy's arm. There's an exchange of dialogue and the man grabbing her arm starts growing frantic. The man in white shouts, making Lucy cringe. He then reaches beneath his suit to reveal a glock, which he quickly puts to good use._

_She screams as warm crimson drops spray her face, her hair, her neck… it's everywhere. Her throat stings and the rising bile makes it even worse. Turns out, she didn't _completely _empty her stomach._

_The man in white grabs her shoulders as the woman's body hunches forward. _

_Lucy coughs and wipers her mouth with the handkerchief before she proceeds to look up. The man's pristine white suit isn't looking so pure anymore now that it's splotched with red… She regains her balance and the man grabs the briefcase and begins fidgeting with a three-code dial that's keeping the case locked. He mutters something and looks her straight in the eyes. "Y-ye-?" He's pointing at the lock now. That's when it dawns on her- they really want whatever's in this case. "No-I don't know!" she protests in her best Mandarin. "Not mine…" He answers with more rushed Korean. "English?" she asks. "Do you speak English?"_

_He holds up his gun, evoking another shrill scream from Lucy._

_"N-no! No, take my hand!" she begs. "C-cut it off, but don't kill me!"_

_The man gives her a questioning look as he lowers the loaded weapon. He then grabs and jerks on the briefcase, nearly sending Lucy to the floor as he does so. _

_"No!" she screams. Her feet follow after him as fast as they can manage. They're at his desk now, and he's motioning for her to sit. She obeys, eyes fixated on the gun. He then takes a seat behind his desk and punches numbers into his phone. He holds the receiver up to his ear and the room is so silent that Lucy can hear the phone ringing from the other end. After what feels like an eternity, the man pushes a button on the phone and sets the receiver back in place._

_"Who am I speaking with?" a man's voice asks._

_"Oh, thank god," she gasps when she hears an American accent. "Lucy!" She brings herself closer to the desk, uncomfortably tugging at the handcuff's chain. "My name is Lucy," she repeats._

_"Hello, Lucy," he calmly begins. "My name is Aldrich… My friend says you have a briefcase with you?"_

_"Y-" she pauses. "Yes, but it's not mine. Richard gave it to me. It's Richard's!"_

_"'Richard…'" the man in a blood-stained suit breathes. _

_Lucy looks at him and nods._

_He shouts something at the phone and there's a brief silence._

_"He's asking for the code," Aldrich says._

_"Code…No-I don't know, Richard didn't…."_

_Aldrich begins to speak the same language as the man behind the desk who grabs a pen and a nearby pad of paper. He scribbles down three numbers before passing them off to Lucy._

140.

_"Now, Lucy," Aldrich continues, "I need you to use these numbers to open the case."_

_"What's inside?" she asks, staring at the briefcase's number dials, all currently at '0.'_

_"We don't know," he admits with a short chuckle._

_Lucy shakes her head and the next thing she knows, the man behind the desk is holding a gun to her head. She sees her terrified reflection in his tinted glasses, so she quickly turns her attention to the suitcase. Her thumb turns the first dial to '1.'_

_The boss man walks away, gun still in hand._

_'4.' The final 0 is already in place for her and she hears a click. "Okay," she breathes. "It's done."_

_"Have you opened it?" Aldrich asks._

_"I don't-" She whips her head around when she hears a shout. Suddenly, everyone's armed and holding up shields as they stand in a row at the office's entrance. There's another angry yell from across the room. The voice belongs to the boss man. _

_"Lucy, if you don't mind," Aldrich beckons. "The briefcase…"_

_She purses her lips as she prepares to flip the lid. This is the end-it has to be. There's gonna be an explosion, or something's gonna shoot her, or… A gunshot is fired at the ceiling and she panics. She knows she's gonna die, and she'd rather die quickly from whatever's in the case than at the hands of the man in a blood-covered suit. _

_The case's top pops open and Lucy squeezes her eyes shut. She hears nothing, feels nothing… the air is still, so she opens her eyes and finds herself staring at four bags of bright blue crystals. "It's not a bomb," she exhales._

_Aldrich laughs and says something in Korean. _

_Far behind her, Lucy hears the boss man laugh._

_"Please, tell me what you see, Lucy."_

_"Four bags," she states, "with some sort of blue powder, and maybe some purple," she adds, afraid to get too close._

_Aldrich relays her message and all the tension seems to leave the room. The man in his red and white suit hovers over Lucy and grabs one of the packages. _

_He says something to one of his men before drawing a small knife from his breast pocket. Lucy watches as he sets the sealed bag down and makes a clean slit down the middle. His steady hand manages to balance the tiniest scoop of crystals along the blade's edge. He carefully taps them off on his desk and forces the powder into a uniform line._

Drugs, _Lucy muses as she continues to watch. Leave it to Richard to leave her with drugs… Someone grabs the back of her chair and pulls her back as the elevator dings, followed by the doors opening. Another chair is placed before the desk, right before the single row of blue. Lucy turns her head as a fairly older man with a ragged T-shirt and pale blond hair is escorted into the chair. An American. Maybe he knew Richard…_

_He sits, and the man in charge holds his knife up to the newcomer's throat before lowering it and tapping it against his desk. After eying the powder, he reluctantly nods, then bows his head to instinctively take it all in. _

_Maybe these guys think she's a druggie. Granted, she's had her fair share of chemicals, but she's not much for… Her thoughts stop as the newcomer's head jerks back. _

_He opens his mouth, displaying his yellowed teeth as he begins to snicker. He turns to Lucy, his eyes glazed over as his eye twitches and he begins to cackle._

_She holds her breath as his uncomfortable laughter continues. Some of the men in suits begin to quietly chuckle along with him._

_But then the boss whips his gun out, and the laughing ceases. _

_Except for the guy living out his high._

_So the man in charge pulls the trigger, and the laughing stops all together._

_Now there's even more blood splattered on Lucy, and she didn't have time to look away, so she's got more imagery to keep her awake at night. _

_Sirens start to wail in the distance, so the boss man starts yelling at his men. He sets his gun aside and tears his glasses off so he can wipe the blood away as he speaks in his native tongue to no one in particular._

_"Lucy," Aldrich says during a moment of quiet. "My friend would like to offer you a job."_

_Her mouth gapes open as she looks to Aldrich's 'friend.' "A… job?"_

_He nods as though he understands._

_"I… I don't want a job."_

_But that was the wrong answer for Lucy. _

_A man standing behind her grabs a fistful of her hair, and before she can react, he has her head slammed against the edge of the desk, and her world goes black…_

The bag is finally removed from her head and she sucks in a breath of fresh air.

"Good to finally meet you in person, Lucy!" It's Aldrich Killian, and he's grinning and talking to her as if they've been friends for years.

She shoots him a glare as he casually runs a hand through his slicked back hair.

"Glad you've agreed to come aboard."

"I want to go **home**!" she shouts. Hot tears form in her eyes. She begins to thrash, but the men on either side of her work to restrain her. "Just cut the chain and let me go!" she begs, wriggling her right hand to show Aldrich that she's chained been chained to whatever the hell kind of drugs the briefcase holds.

"I will," he vowed, taking a step closer to her. "But I need you to do something for me."

Her eyes widen as she finds herself face to face with her savior. "Anything!" She's desperate, but she doesn't want to die.

Aldrich eyes the briefcase and Lucy's body is tugged to the right as one of her captor's presents the case to him. He opens it and furrows his brows as he sees that one of the bags has been cut open. Aldrich orders the man to have it re-bagged and sealed. The man nods, and Aldrich lifts up an unopened bag to show Lucy. "I need you to deliver this for me."

"Deliver?" she parrots. "They're drugs…aren't they?"

"Kids like you are gonna love it!" he promises with a wink.

She knows that there's no declining the offer, but there's gotta be another way…

"I'll make things easy for you, Lucy," he offers. "Say yes, and I'll let you have something special before the operation.

"O-Oper-"

He reaches into his breast pocket and unrolls a thick piece of leather to reveals a loaded syringe tucked in between a set of straps. "You're gonna want an anesthetic for this, sweetie," he darkly warns.

Her mouth falls open and her knees buckle.

Aldrich doesn't even get his answer.

She's passed out, and he finds it amusing, so he agrees to give her the shot. "First floor," he tells the men in flawless Korean. "Room 140," he adds with a stifled laugh.


	3. Agent and Victim

Natasha manages to read one paragraph of the briefing packet before feeling overwhelmed. She lets her head sink back into her seat and closes her eyes. _This is your punishment for being a shitty parent, _she tells herself. There's no denying that it's not true.

The longest she had ever spent with Lucy for one period of time was roughly thirteen months, including the pregnancy itself. After that, she was all Matt's while Natasha kept herself busy with missions. Growing up, Lucy _wanted _her mother there. She was always glad to have mommy home, even when she smelled like gunpowder, blood, and airplane. Attending the girl's high school graduation was the last time Natasha had actually gotten to spend time with her. She sat through the ceremony, and even had dinner with her ex that night, all for Lucy. That was love right there. Natasha did care, though. She paid for the majority of Lucy's expenses, including her passport and her trip to 'study' abroad.

This was all her fault. Granted, at twenty-four, Lucy was free to do as she pleased, so flying off to Taipei would've happened regardless. But Natasha paid for the ticket, and look where that got the poor girl…

"You sure you don't want a drink?" Clint asks before taking his seat beside her.

"Unless they've got something strong on board, then no," she irritably answers.

"You're doing it again," he warns. Clint grabs the folder that holds the mission details and stuffs it into the seat pocket in front of him. "You can't blame yourself, Nat," he says quietly. "What happened-"

"Is all my fault, Barton." She rests her elbow on the armrest and pinches the bridge of her nose. "I've had this one coming for a while now," she breathes. "I'm not Mother-of-the-Year, and I never was."

"She loves you," Clint tells her with sad eyes.

Natasha begins to laugh. "I'd be amazed if she said that within the past fifteen years!"

"C'mon, Nat," he urges. "Don't be like this…"

She shoots Clint a dirty glare before looking out at the clouds. "I'd like to sleep now, if you don't mind." _A.K.A, I'm telling you to leave me alone, Clint. _

He leaves his seat and moves to the one behind her. She needs her space. He understands that.

* * *

><p>The only downside of a wild night out is waking up the next morning. Your brain is scattered as it tries to piece together events while there's a merciless pounding in your head. Lucy is no stranger to these mornings.<p>

She begins to stir and she feels oddly well rested today. Maybe it's the feather pillow hugging her head, or maybe it's the after effects of something slipped into her drink the night before…

_ Lucy pictures flashing blue lights dancing along to the beat of an obnoxiously loud song. Her body's moving back and forth, sloshing around the drink in her hand. She begins to stumble, but someone assists her from behind. "Richa-" She turns around, and figures her date's got her. But no. It's a surprisingly attractive older man with blond hair neatly slicked back. He's dressed in a fancy suit, and not the kind you'd wear to a cheap night club, unless you're there to flaunt your money and have every woman beg to go home with you. The man offers her a smile and takes her drink, only to replace it with a plastic baggie. Lucy lowers her gaze to a bag of blue powder. She feels the man snake his hands around her waist, but she's too mesmerized by the way the lights are reflecting and sparkling against this blue powder._

_"Lucy." _

_He speaks her name and the clear packet falls from her hand. When she looks down to grab it, the stranger swipes a scalpel along her middle and now there's red. So much red…_

Her eyes are wide open and her body shudders from the aftermaths of her nightmare. She closes her eyes and breathes in, but there's a searing pain in her gut.

_'Say yes, and I'll let you have something special before the operation.'_

Aldrich's cruel taunt brings Lucy to her senses. She's in too much pain to even roll onto her back. Lucy brings a hand to her left side. There's gauze wrapped all around her middle and Lucy's mind flashes back to her dream, then to the men in the office, the drugs, the blood…

She takes a deep breath in, then out. Her throat feels raw and the always pleasant taste of vomit lingers on her tongue. Lucy buries her cheek deeper into her pillow. There's a nightstand right in front of her with a silver tray equipped with labeled bottles, cotton balls, medical scissors… Killian wasn't messing around when he mentioned an operation.

Lucy tries to swallow back the need to hurl. Slowly and carefully, she props herself of on her elbows. She feels a nagging pain and an odd weight in her gut. Crying's not going to help her, though, so she sits up in one quick motion. She feels a shift in her belly's left side. Lucy ignores the fact that she's in nothing but her underwear to ogle her bandages. A growing spot of blood stains the white gauze and she's terrified to take a peek at what's hidden from view. Her fingers gingerly feel around the area. There's a slight tumor-like bulge that sends her heart racing. What happened to her?

The door opens and Lucy eyes the strange man standing in the doorway like a deer in the headlights. She can't run-her stomach aches and she has no clue where she is. Lucy's trapped, and with an incision that could very well be opening back up.

The man then throws a rolled up ball at her. Jeans, a white shirt, and a belt. He utters an order as the clothes hit her in the chest.

Lucy unrolls the jeans. They're just her size, same for the shirt. She notices that the man is still standing guard in front of the door, dark sunglasses concealing his eyes. He shows no sign of budging until she's dressed, so Lucy takes her time. After her jeans are buttoned and her belt is secured around her waist, she takes a step forward. The thing inside her belly shifts, so she rests a hand against her side for support. She reaches the door and that's when it hits her.

Killian needed her to deliver the goods. Then there was an operation…

Lucy recalls the clear package full of sparkling blue and feels knots in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

><p>The two assassins land and head straight for their hotel carrying only one duffel bag each. They take a cab and Natasha stares idly out the window until they pass a building lined with bright yellow tape, and several parked police cars. Natasha forces the driver to halt and they're allowed off once the driver pulls up to a vacant space.<p>

Natasha withdraws her S.H.I.E.L.D. ID from her leather jacket's breast pocket. She approaches a uniformed officer with Clint in tow and asks if anyone knows English. Lucky for the agents, there's an officer who knows enough to fill them in. "Can you tell us what happened here?" she asks, flashing her ID.

"A shooting," the man starts to explain. "Nine men with guns," he continues. His English is slow, but he's giving the agents exactly what they need to hear. "One hostage-American woman," he adds, pointing to Natasha. "They all escape."

"There's no trace?" Clint questions. "Can we see any security footage?" There's a pause. "Any video on camera?"

The man shakes his head. "Video is gone. Erased."

"These guys must know the place well," Natasha mutters for Clint to hear. "Can you describe the hostage?"

"Blonde female was all I hear."

Natasha purses her lips and nods. She already knows that Lucy's a hostage, but she needed to hear it from a stranger's mouth to let the eerie reality hit her.

The officer suddenly holds up a finger and hurries over to his nearest neighbor.

"You okay?" Clint whispers.

"I'm holding up." She crosses her arms and the officer returns with a few photos.

"This all we have." He offers Clint three black and white photos. "Camera pictures from witness."

The photos are all blurry from being expanded, but they serve their purpose. Natasha snatches one of two men grabbing a terrified Lucy. "Can I keep this?" she asks. The man nods and Natasha takes another look at the photo.

Clint passes the other two photos back to the officer. The other two are fairly similar to the one his partner holds, except one was taken with everyone's backs turned, and the other, a motion-blurred three-quarter view.

"We'll check in at the hotel, then I want you to take a picture of this to send to Fury," Natasha orders. "If we're lucky, the databases will have something…"

"What do you plan on doing?" Clint wonders, although he has a very vague idea.

"Look for a lead on Killian," she grumbles.

* * *

><p>Lucy's escorted down a carpeted hall lined with framed photographs of cityscapes and flowers. A set of glass doors appears and her guard opens one for her. Lucy glances in and sees Killian, along with the man in the white suit (today, it's a pale grey one). Her hand supports the prize that was stuffed into her as she steps in.<p>

"You'll be home soon shortly," Killian promises with a wink.

She shoots him an icy glare and stops. "It's inside me?" she dumbly asks.

"Don't worry." He holds up a passport with her photo, her full name, birth date-everything. _How did he get a hold of that?_ She accepts it, then flips through it to find the accidental tear she had made on the second-to-last page three years ago. Lucy is left to assume that they identified her when she was out and broke into her apartment… She shakes her head, fearing that she's thinking like her workaholic mother.

"Once everyone is gathered, I'll explain everything."

Lucy hears more footsteps behind her. She turns her head and sees a man in a suit lead in a bald man with tanned skin and glasses. Another American.

A girl is led in next with pale skin and red, straw-like hair. Lucy notices multiple scars on her face and quickly looks away when the stranger's gaze takes note. The final person to enter is an older man, olive-skinned with dark hair pulled into a high ponytail and a thick, scraggily beard.

"Now then." Killian claps his hands together as a man in a suit hands off passports to the three individuals lined up beside Lucy. "If you look inside your passport, you'll each find a plane ticket to your next destination. Lucy checks hers and sees that she's New York bound. "As I'm sure you all know, you've each woken up with a little surprise." There's silence from the four that stand before him. "Inside each of your lower tummies is a tiny package you need to deliver," he begins to explain. "Once each of you reaches your destination, you'll be greeted with some friends of mine who will take back our merchandise and you're each free to go after that."

"Merchandise?" the red-headed girl asks.

"Yes." Killian steps towards her and points at her left side. "You each carry a very valuable packet of drugs in you. I need a way to smuggle these out of the country. That's where you come in…"

_Should've done it yourself_, Lucy thinks to herself.

"Each flight leaves in the morning, so you all are free to stay in my humble abode tonight," Aldrich graciously offers.

Lucy would have been rolling her eyes if not for the gravity of her predicament. Someone was going to cut her open again. Who knew whether or not she'd get an anesthetic this time? Her stomach begins to churn, making the spot beneath her incision ache.

"This is goodbye. For now."

A bag lowers over Lucy's head. A string is pulled tight at the neck, making her gag. She's been through this once before, but this time is far more terrifying than the last. God knows where she's being led to. A hand smacks her lower back and she hears a deep voice order to 'move.' She swears that she can feel the powdered drugs rustling in her gut with each step. Some grand stay this is turning into… She forces herself to keep moving until she hears a _ding._ Perhaps she's going outside, or maybe to a higher floor. She'll never know with a bag over her head and no sense of time…

* * *

><p>"Call me if Fury gets back to you on that photo," Natasha announces after securing her holsters around her thighs. "I might be out late tonight." She pulls a tan trench coat from her duffel bag and puts it on over the infamous catsuit.<p>

"Call me if you need me," Clint answers, hunched over his laptop. "I'll be here eavesdropping on our target's phone lines."

"Have any of our people tried sneaking into FuturePharm's base yet?"

Clint shook his head. "We're the first to arrive."

"Looks like I've got dibs, then." Natasha buttons up her coat and heads for the door. She's snuck into corporations before. Hell, she's even gotten into Stark's business with no problems and a handful of his secrets. This should be easy for the Black Widow.

Her information has told her about this Aldrich Killian character. Like Tony Stark, he's another brilliant mind in the field of science. He started his first FuturePharm business in Texas to begin working on experimental drugs. S.H.I.E.L.D. took an interest in him once they discovered that a group of terrorists they were targeting happened to be making trips to Killian's corporation. Nick Fury sent out agents to investigate, but Killian vanished, leaving behind no traces of any illegal activity. That was nine years ago. Now, here he was, overseas and running a seemingly legal pharmaceutical gimmick. Until word of a new Super Soldier serum escaped…

This was going to be the last stunt Killian pulls. Natasha swears on this.

* * *

><p>The wool is pulled away from Lucy's eyes and the darkness of a stuffy bag is replaced with the darkness of four walls of dark grey concrete. There's a table at one end of the room and a chair directly across from it. A man's hand pulls Lucy over to the lone chair. To her right is a chain adhered to the wall. A slightly older, heavier man lifts the chain and locks the cuff around Lucy's wrist. There's another man to Lucy's left. He looks no older than she and he gives her a lusty smirk. She lowers her eyes and notices the countless tattoos painted on his bare chest. Out of all the henchmen she's seen thus far, these two seem to be the most least professional. If they were dressed up in suits, then she would feel a tiny bit more at ease.<p>

He mutters something and Lucy responds with a dirty look, something that she picked up from her mother. The man reaches for her chin, but she refuses to budge. "Oi," he breathes. His hand then freely makes its way down her shirt to cup her breast.

"I'm **not **in the mood," Lucy growls. She's frightened, appalled, angry… And this pervert is only adding fuel to the fire.

His brows knit together, making Lucy wonder if he understands. He raises his hand, then strikes her across the cheek.

Lucy is tossed to the floor upon impact. She helplessly stares up at the older man with a crew cut wearing a jacket. He's shouting something at Tattoos as if to defend her.

But the vigilante isn't listening to his partner. He swings his leg back, then sends it forward to give Lucy a swift kick in the stomach.

She cries out and he kicks her again, and again…

The man wearing a jacket shouts louder and forces the younger man's hands behind his head as he drags him away. Both are now screaming at each other in their own language.

Lucy sees their mouths opening, but she can't hear a thing. She watches with half-lidded eyes as they leave the room, slamming the vault-like door shut behind them.

Fluorescent lights flicker above Lucy's head as her body curls up into a tiny ball. The pain she felt this morning is nothing compared to this. Her trembling hand lifts up her shirt to reveal the bandages.

The red is spreading, and Lucy can feel the sticky wetness leaving her body. This is it. She's going to die here…but maybe it's better to bleed out and die here than be forced to endure another operation. Killian knows exactly who she is, so who's to say he won't come after her again? Granted she even makes it out of this alive…

If she tells the Black Widow, will she do anything? Lucy hasn't spoken to her since Christmas and that was months ago. She can always tell her dad. Despite his blindness, he still knows how to kick ass. Lucy can feel herself start to relax as she thinks of her father. Her eyes close as her hands hug her middle.

Lucy feels her heart begin to beat faster, faster. The pain dulls and adrenaline takes its place. Suddenly, her mind is moving at a hundred miles an hour and her physically injured body aches to move around. She rolls onto her back and opens her eyes. The ceiling lights are blinking with every ticking second and the walls around her begin to stretch. She's taking short, rapid breaths and the room starts spinning. Her body feels light as a feather, yet she can't move a muscle. One second she's fearing death, and now, she doesn't know what the hell is going on with her.

The lights above her begin to change colours and the room feels like a rave. Yellows, greens, blues, reds, blues, reds, blood…

_Blood._

A _ding _echoes through her head. The noises is growing louder and louder as dark crimson floods Lucy's surroundings.

There's blood seeping through her wound, blood dripping from the cracks in the walls-it's everywhere.

Her breathing becomes more unstable as Killian's voice fills her head. He's mumbling something, but Lucy can't hear over the sound of her own ragged breaths. She forces herself to stop breathing, allowing for Aldrich's voice to become clearer.

"Drugs," he says. "Perfectly harmless."

_Harmless…_

Lucy can see the man with yellowed teeth as he laughs like a wild hyena after taking a hit of Killian's merch.

_The drugs…_

His howling laughter grows louder as the lights above violently flicker. There's darkness, then light, dark, light, dark, light…

Lucy loses consciousness as her body seizes up.

_The drugs…_

Her body begins to spasm and her eyes roll back into her head. She's on her stomach, then on her back, then on her side… The chain restraining her angrily jingles as her body's jerked every which way.

One of the lights unexpectedly blows out and Lucy's pupils come into view. Her trembling hand grabs the chain that connects her to the wall. She uneasily stands to her feet as a stranger's voice speaks.

_"She's under."_

_ "Was the product re-bagged?" a different voice asks._

_"Yes, sir."_

_There's a soft rustling sound now._

Lucy stands still in the center of the room. She keeps hearing voices, and she doesn't know who they belong to.

_"Ready the suction device."_

_"Ready."_

Lucy starts to scream as she feels the tip of any icy blade pierce her side.

_"Vitals are stable."_

_"I need the packet now."_

She grabs her throbbing side as she feels something being forced into her gut. Her wide eyes are glued to her middle. There's nothing happening, but she can feel her insides shifting to make room for the package.

_"She's still stable."_

There's an overwhelming pressure in her belly and Lucy comes to a horrifying realization. The pain is all in her memory. Why it feels so real is beyond her…

_"Sew her up now."_

Lucy screams and runs face first into the nearest wall. It's not the brightest idea, but it makes the pain stop.


	4. Detached and Attached

Lucy hears heels clacking against a freshly polished floor. They're taking long, heavy strides-it must be a man. He's eleven feet away, now ten and a half…Why does she know this? _The drugs, _she reminds herself. She breathes in and can feel her blood pulsing and her cells sending and receiving signals like wildfire. Her eyes flicker open and she leaves the cold ground to take a seat in her chair. Six feet away… Her brain is locked onto him with newly awakened senses, senses that will be put to good use when she escapes this joint.

The door's lock clicks open and in steps the man with a crew cut, the nicer one of her two captors. Tattoos seems to be gone, but that's for the best.

Lucy straightens in her seat. Option number two is that he's here to change her stained bandages. She watches as the man sets down his gun on the table at the end of the cell, along with a set of four keys. He then turns to her with a glint in his eyes. Lucy offers him a smile as she slowly spreads her legs apart.

Of course. He's here for option number one.

He slinks closer to her, eager to have what his buddy failed at getting.

Lucy hums as his fat fingers caress her jeans right below the zipper.

He gladly reaches for her belt as the blonde's head leans back.

Her belt is unclasped, and now, the guy's going for the button… now the zipper, and then…

His head lowers, just in time for Lucy to deliver a brutal head-butt against his nose. He steps back, swearing and cupping his bloody nose.

Lucy whips out her belt in one swift motion while her opponent is distracted. With only three steps forward, she's closes enough to the table to use her belt as a lasso. Her belt latches onto a table leg and Lucy sends it skidding towards her. The man shouts at her, but before he can act, Lucy's already uncuffed herself and holds a fully loaded glock at the man's head. Her quick-thinking is astounding her-this is the kind of stuff the Black Widow does on a daily basis. She wonders is her subconscious is channeling that into her actions… "On your knees!" she orders in flawless Mandarin. Funny, that phrase never came up in any of her language comprehension books. Well, maybe in one, but it was a book she picked up for laughs.

The man ignores her and makes a mad grab for the gun.

Bad move.

Lucy expertly lassos her belt around his neck and sends him crashing to the floor with a remarkable unknown strength. While he's down, she cuffs _him_ to the wall before leaving the bleak cell.

The hallway is just as dreary as the prison chamber. She strides past dark walls lined with electrical wiring and dying overhead lights. The scent of food is guiding her. She assumes that she's gone at least a day without even a scrap, but she's not _feeling _hungry. Her body needs the sustenance, though, according to a group of cells. Lucy needs herself to keep functioning at full speed, so she follows her nose past a heavy metal door.

The kitchen has a much cheerier tone from what she's seen of her prison so far. It's well-lit, warm, and smells of spicy pork and kimchi. Lucy wordlessly approaches a table of four men seated at a cheap fold out table as they stuff their faces while playing a casual game of cards. The first thing she notices is Tattoos, leaning back in his chair and motioning to the chef as he cooks over a hot grill. "Hey!" she shouts at them.

They all whip their heads around in unison, perfectly in sync with five consecutive shots from Lucy's gun. In the time it takes for her gun to fire, two men had grab their own guns from off the table. Both shoot, but only one manages a hit to Lucy's right shoulder.

Taking the hit was inevitable. The bullets can only fire so fast, after all. Lucy lowers her weapon as her pulse is now the only one to beat. She feels like she's got a high-speed computer for a brain. Shouldn't someone feel frightened if they can see their entire childhood playing out in a matter of seconds? Lucy can remember the exact day that she took her first step. It was a Wednesday, she was seven months and three days old. She even remembers her grade school text books word for word-they're all there, and she's got every word of every page in every book she's ever read memorized. Shame she didn't have this knowledge growing up…

She shoves a body out from a chair and sits. After setting her gun down amidst the clutter of cards, cigarettes, and unfinished food, she snatches up a dumpling and shoves it into her mouth. She grabs and inhales some fried noodles and a spicy pork bun, barely allowing herself to chew. The mouthful of food barely makes it down her throat, but she doesn't panic, let alone feel bothered that she's ready to choke. She grabs a glass of water and swigs it down in several gulps, letting the hardly-chewed food slide into her stomach. As she looks to her right for another dumpling, a splotch of red on her shirt diverts her attention.

Blood, but she's not bothered this time. Nor does she feel any pain. She simply eyes the wound and her body starts signaling the bullet's location. It's lodged in between muscle, and if she's careful, she can pull it out and not need to worry about too much blood loss. Lucy averts her eyes as her fingers brush past the neck of her shirt. Her mind's eye is giving her an image of the bullet as her fingers expertly dig into her skin. It's two and three quarters of an inch in there and Lucy has it out in four seconds flat without so much as a whimper.

She eyes the 9 millimeter piece of brass and suddenly, her brain's going haywire by giving her the weight, the circumference, the force at which it came at her-everything that no normal person should know just by fiddling with such a tiny thing. Lucy tosses it into her empty glass and grabs her gun before abruptly rising from her chair.

She needs to get to a hospital to stitch up her wound, along with getting the remainder of Killian's drugs removed from her stomach. Before she leaves, she steals a tattered denim jacket from one of the bodies and slips it on as she walks. The sleeves are six and three-eighths of an inch too long (her mind is going nonstop with the measurements, but Lucy can't turn it off).

Finding out what the hell is wrong with her is the main goal of the day. But first, hospital. The first door she finds is an exit. She takes in a breath of fresh air-it's seventy one degrees- and walks until she sees two men having a smoke near a car. "Hey!" she shouts, putting her Mandarin to good use. "I need to get to the hospital!" They both side-eye her, but the taller, leaner one spots the blood staining her shirt and pales at the sight. "Hospital. Now!" She raises her gun and fires a shot at the squeamish man's foot. He screams and Lucy mentally rolls her eyes. The bullet hit the ground two and a half inches from his foot. On purpose. She thinks about giving him an _actual _shot to the foot, but his buddy has the car door opened for her, so she allows herself in and lets a complete stranger drive her away.

* * *

><p>Natasha pulls up directions on her phone whilst briskly walking the streets. Pinpointing a pharmaceutical company on a miniscule city map is easy. Actually navigating one's way through unfamiliar streets isn't, but the Black Widow isn't one to give up. She follows the flow of the crowd, checking her phone's GPS every time she needs to switch streets. After twenty minutes, she's close, but after hours on a plane, her stamina's low. She stops at a coffee shop, orders a large drink, and sits by a window that conveniently overlooks the FuturePharm building. Natasha takes small, slow sips and contemplates her next move. There's bound to be at least one back entrance-there always is. Then there's definitely gonna be a code that needs to be cracked-that's not a problem for her, either. Natasha relaxes into her seat and waits for the caffeine take effect.<p>

Natasha happens to glance up at a television fixed to the wall. Maybe it's pure chance, or maybe it's a sign from the gods, but the news is on, and on that screen is Lucy's face, accompanied by footage of her walking through a hospital lobby. Natasha can't understand a word of what the reporter is saying, but she knows it's urgent.

* * *

><p>Lucy <em>tried <em>keeping her gun hidden beneath her jacket, and for the record, she was certain that her weapon was well-concealed beneath her arm. Apparently not.

As she passes a mother and her young son (he's just had an allergic reaction to peanuts. A swollen tongue. He'll live), she hears her whisper to the man next to her.

"Did you see that woman? She had a gun, I swear she did."

Lucy walks faster, straight past the receptionist, but it's drawing even more attention to herself.

"Miss!" the receptionist yells.

Lucy can always play the 'American in a foreign country' card, but the truth is, she can understand every word. She can even read the language, even the characters she had never seen before.

The drive to the hospital made Lucy come to this realization. She could suddenly read every sign, every poster, and even overhear people's phone conversations as if she's some kind of a satellite.

She walks past a sign reading 'surgery' and follows the arrow that guides her straight down a hall. Chinese isn't the only language she's somehow memorized, either. She's now downloading Russian, courtesy of her mother, and Brail, thanks to her father. With every step she takes, her mind is expanding to accommodate every scrap of knowledge the world has to offer. Languages, old textbooks, childhood memories-they're all swimming through her head at once and it's both exciting and frightening at the same time… Only Lucy can't properly _feel _the rush of it all. The more she learns, the more she finds herself losing touch with her emotions. The pain from the gunshot is non-existent. Same for the incision across her stomach. She stops and hugs her jacket close. She should feel terrified after all that's happened. Hell, she shouldn't even be walking with her injuries (especially since three of the stitches have come undone and she's slowly bleeding out).

But she can't remember how pain feels. The things making her human are slipping away.

There's an alarm sounding back in the waiting room. The woman who saw her gun told the receptionist and now the cops are on the way. Lucy picks up the frequency from the receptionist's phone. She's frantic as she sputters on about a suspicious American woman with a gun. Now male staff is being contacted to apprehend her.

Lucy walks past two doors and pushes open the third on her left. There are four doctors hovering over a man's body. Lucy saunters over to a display of chest x-rays. The left lung has collapsed and the doctors are doing their best to get the man breathing properly. Lucy turns and sets her gun on a chair before letting her jacket and shirt fall to the floor. "There's no saving him." She picks up her gun, knowing that she'll need it. Just one look at the patient is enough to tell Lucy his vitals. The heart rate is steadily dropping. Lucy looks to the heart monitor and mentally speeds up the progression. Over the course of six minutes and twenty-two seconds, he'll be gone.

Two doctors turn to give Lucy a questioning look.

"It's no use," she mutters as she approaches the table to shove the man and his opened-up chest to the floor. A doctor to Lucy's right passes out on the spot. "He's not getting air and you should've focused more on the right lung. Would've found cancer." She sits herself down on the operating table, displaying her wounds for the doctors to see. "Gunshot in the right shoulder, bullet's been removed," she informs them. "The incision on the lower left needs to be re-opened. I've got a bag of drugs in me and it's leaking." She notices another doctor pale beneath her surgical mask. "I'd like to know what's in the bag once it's out." Her eyes narrow as she raises her gun.

The head doctor signals for her to lower the gun. Once she does, he reaches for scissors to snip apart the browned bandages around Lucy's waist. "Get the anesthetic ready," he orders.

"Don't," Lucy answers. "I don't need any."

He stares at her like she's crazy, but he nods and tells his assistants to patch up her shoulder.

She turns to an assistant doctor. "Can I borrow a phone?" she softly asks, reaching over to set her gun on the tray of surgical tools. A man nods and goes to fetch his phone from across the room. The phone is soon in her hand and while the doctors get to work, Lucy decides that it's time to give someone a reassuring phone call. She's not going to cause any trouble-it's not worth the burden. All she wants is to hear a familiar voice, and not one inside her head. She's already playing out thirty-seven various scenarios of what could happen. Her dad finds out something's wrong and panics, or he's calm, in one he's even scolding her to study. Her father is the only one she's having imaginary conversations with. No one else matters more to her, and Lucy feels a sense of longing. She holds onto that feeling, because she knows that it's going to be gone before she realizes it.

The phone rings twice as a doctor begins snipping apart the incisions along her abdomen. "Dad?" She's certain it's her father even before he speaks, but she chooses to pose a question in hopes of holding on to her dwindling humanity.

"Lucy?" There's a genuine surprise in his voice, and she can't blame him. This is the first time in seventeen days, four hours, and thirty-two seconds since her last phone call. "It's good to hear from you sweetie, how are you?"

She carefully watches the doctor as he makes a clean cut before clearing the blood away. As if she will tell her dad that she is currently a drug-mule, lured into this whole mess by a strange, handsome man who got his only daughter trashed enough to forget her own name. "Dad, I just wanted to say I miss you." The heartfelt greeting-card message is said in a monotone, so she works to force some genuine concern. "And I love you." Her heartbeat quickens as she feels the pressure in her belly. She isn't nervous or scared, though. No, her pounding heart is just her body managing itself as a two-thirds empty bag of Killian's latest illegal drug is tugged out of her. "Dad…" Lucy stares off into space and envisions her own vitals. Her heart is racing, so she signals for it to slow down. Fast forward hours ahead and it still maintains a steady beat. But then it stops. Barely twenty-four hours into the future, and Lucy can't stop that. Whatever is in her bloodstream is killing her slowly.

"Lucy? What is it?" His reassuring voice has never changed in his twenty-four year role as a father.

"I feel everything," she begins, keeping her eyes forward as the stitching process began. "I can feel your fingers stroking my hair, the millions of kisses you've given me…" Her eyes begin to sting and she wonders if this is the last of her human self leaving her. "I know you're disappointed that mom isn't home." Even without the help of her enhanced mind, she knows that her mother is out working. She always is. That woman had a stronger marriage to her job than she did with her own husband. Go figure things never worked out. "I can feel my blood flowing, my cells growing and dying… I even remember the time you dragged mom and I to that boxing match. She complained that it was a waste of time and that she could take out any man on her own."

"'Boxing match?'" he parrots. "Luc, I haven't been to a match since you were a baby."

He's bewildered, but she can't blame him. "I remember," she promises. "Like I remember leaving your body to join mom's. I can-"

"Lucy?" There's an urgency to his voice and he must be thinking his little girl's on a bender again. "Lucy, the reception must be bad. Are you feeling okay?"

She feels the tug and pull of the needle and string piecing her back together again. "Fine."

"It's late there, isn't it? I'll let you go then."

"Goodbye, dad." She ends the call after a definite final goodbye and lets the doctors finish their work.

* * *

><p>Natasha's making her way to the hospital when her phone starts to ring. Barton. "This better be a lead," she warns.<p>

"Yeah," he breathes. "We've got these guys identified. Hydra men, but we can't make the kill until we know their boss. Killian can't be running this show alone."

Natasha sees Lucy's face on the TV screen. _She's in a hospital, _she tells herself. _But she's also alive._ _And she can fend for herself… _"Do we have whereabouts on these guys? And notify the others. We're not sleeping until we have answers."


	5. Mother and Daughter

"Our first guy's an intern at FuturePharm," Clint begins.

"Great, I'm close, then." Natasha turns right back around in the direction from which she came. "Leave him to me and I'll find his boss."

"You're not making any kills tonight."

"What fun would it be if I went straight for the kill?" she smarmily retorts. As if any of the bastards who touched Lucy were going to get away with a quick death. The Black Widow isn't that merciful.

Clint's quiet for a moment, but then he chooses to speak. "Call me when you have a lead on the higher-ups."

"Will do," Natasha promises before ending the call.

* * *

><p>Lucy's shoulder is bandaged and the doctor is just finishing up the stitches as she clothes her eyes and replays the last time she saw her dad in person.<p>

It was January second. She was just about to fly back to Taipei after spending the holidays with her father. Lucy can clearly picture him in her mind's eye as if he's right there with her. She takes note of his slowly graying hair, the stubble on his face, his glassy eyes hidden behind dark-rimmed glasses. She's even able to smell the cheap cologne he picks at random mixed with a faint pine smell that always lingered from the Christmas tree.

_Dad._

Lucy brings herself out of the daydream once the stitching is complete. She watches the two doctors who helped with her shoulder examine the contents of the nearly empty bag. "The substance has been in my body for nearly five hours now," she states. "So far I've experienced increased cerebral function, increased physical strength… It's a poison, that I already know."

"We've never encountered anything such s this," the doctor admits after hearing the symptoms.

"I've been told it's a drug, but I have other theories," Lucy divulges. "If any of you are familiar with the serum produced to create Captain America, then I believe that this drug is some form of that." Lucy doesn't feel like mentioning Russia's victim to the serum. If it really _is _like what the Widow was given, then Lucy's in the same boat her mother was. An unwilling victim. Only the chemicals in her bloodstream are killing her. Maybe she was given a faulty batch, but so far she's experiencing positive results.

The female doctor lowers her surgical mask before speaking. "There have been rumors regarding a new drug on the street," she begins.

Lucy intently watches the woman speak. She assumes that this woman's husband is a cop, no stranger to the frequent rumours that street vigilantes discuss.

"There's been a dealer seeking out test subjects," she continues.

Lucy pictures Richard carrying around a metal briefcase and making offers to likely candidates. Or using force. Specifically on a blonde bimbo who came off as easy…

"That is the only thing I can tell you, ma'am," the doctor finishes.

Lucy nods before replying with a hollow 'thank you.' She hops down from the operating table and reaches for her bag of drugs. "I'm going to prevent this drug from making it onto the market," she announces. "To do that, I need a favour." Her eyes rest on the split open bag. "First, I'd like this sealed up. Secondly, the police are here-seven men, all after me. I need a set of scrubs, a mask, a head cover, and two of you to escort me out." There's an uneasy tension in the room, but the doctors agree to comply with Lucy's orders.

* * *

><p>The Black Widow slinks down a narrow alley towards the bright orange sun sinking into the horizon. Once alone in the shadows, she sheds her coat to reveal her signature skintight suit. A chain link fence is separating her from where she needs to be, but such a petty obstacle isn't stopping her. Natasha lifts her leg at stomach level before securing the toe of her boot into the fence. She does the same with the other leg and stretches her arms so she can grab the top railing. Natasha kicks her legs back and uses the strength of her slender arms to gracefully flip over the fence with only a gentle breeze rustling the chain links. She lands on her feet and charges towards a concrete wall.<p>

Cigarette butts and crushed beer cans are strewn along the ground. Natasha spots a door along with a number pad and an accompanying eye scanner. Good thing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s photos are high-res. She grabs her phone from her belt pocket and allows for a UV light to reveal fingerprints as her phone unscrambles a four-digit code. 0725. The photo part comes next. She opens a file Barton had sent her and zooms in on her target's eye before letting the machine see. His name is Minjae Choi, and he will soon be writhing beneath the Black Widow as he spills his boss' secrets. There's a subtle _click _from the door and Natasha cautiously enters.

So far, the coast is clear, but the Black Widow knows better than to think that this break-in will be a cake-walk. She withdraws her gun, fully loaded with tranquilizing darts, and begins her game of cat and mouse.

* * *

><p>Lucy rips away the face mask and shakes her wavy hair free of the light blue cap once she's safely out of the hospital. Once free of her scrubs, she straightens her denim jacket and feels the weight of a baggie of drugs in one pocket, and a gun in the other. Mission number one is to find the man in the white suit, the one who refused to let her say 'no' to this mess she is in.<p>

Lucy can feel her clock slowly ticking as the drug consumes her. It's a shame to have the world's knowledge being shoved into her head , only to have it all die, taking her young body with it. All she can do now is force handfuls of cells to kill themselves while new ones multiply like rabbits. Surprisingly, it's not that hard. She doesn't have her one-track mind anymore. She can multitask now. Right now as she's walking past a group of teens, she's listening in on their conversation about the movie they just saw and she's able to watch this epic car chase from the film via a telepathic connection to these kids. Lucy picks up the pace and simultaneously eavesdrops in on a phone conversation that a forty-two year old woman is having with her sister 17.2 miles away. The woman's about to ask for divorce advice. Good thing the woman doesn't have kids-they'd be miserable over this.

There's a fraction of a second where amidst Lucy's racing mind, a memory of her own mother takes center stage. She forces it away as she spots a tourist with a map. One glance, and she has every street, every corner, and every hotel location committed to memory. Still, the thought of her mother lingers despite being shoved into the deepest reaches of her brain.

Her mother's smiling. At her. It's a soft, gentle smile, and there's the most complex look in her eyes. There's fatigue, fear, joy…

Lucy remembers this from the moment that she first opened her eyes. She freezes in place and lets a crowd wade past her.

She knows where the man in the white suit is.

_"I have a woman here, American, and she has our briefcase with her,"_ _the man in the bloodied suit_ _says into his phone._

Lucy recognises this as the very moment she was dragged into his office. She couldn't understand a word before, but now, she can translate everything…

_"Get her to tell you the code. Don't take too long-I have a weekend at The Westin to look forward to," he grumbles._

_The Westin._ It's a hotel, and after sneaking a peek at a map, Lucy knows just where to go…

* * *

><p>Natasha keeps to the shadows as she always does. The nine-to-five work day has long passed and only the few most dedicated individuals linger. She reaches a desolate hall and spots a soft grey light seeping out from beneath the crevice of a closed door. Natasha presses her gloved hand down on the handle, slowly, <em>slowly, <em>and opens the door without a sound. She peeks in and finds a scrawny man with his eyes glued to at least a dozen television screens, all security footage.

_Bingo._

She continues to watch, listening to the man crunching on his bag of chips. There's mostly outdoor footage, but no camera angles from Natasha's entry point. On her way in, she was sure to mind the cameras placed along every corner. It's a basic setup, they can do better. As she waits, she watches, particularly one screen that has shifted to the view of what she assumes to be the employee break room.

There's a man hovering over a coffee machine, his back to the camera. He soon turns, bringing a steaming mug to his lips.

Crew cut, light scruff, thick brows… Natasha easily identifies these features as those of a Mr. Choi. The lower right hand corner of the screen tells her room 107, so that's exactly where she goes.

Mr. Choi is just sitting down on a leather couch to enjoy his coffee. He snags the day's newspaper from the coffee table and helps himself to a short break. Like his co-workers, he should be home, but he has extra paperwork tonight in addition to keeping tabs on four drug mules, one of which is AWOL. His night isn't going to be easy, especially if Mr. Jang catches wind of the news.

He unfolds his paper just as the door opens. There's hardly a peep, but Choi's feeling uneasy, like he's not alone. He lowers the newspaper and glances towards the door to his far right. Did he leave it open? He sets down his newspaper, then his coffee, and heads for the door. Maybe he's just hearing things. It's been a long day, after all. No word on any cops grabbing hold of an American girl as of yet… He's closing the door and that's when he finds himself inches away from _her, _speak of the devil_… _But isn't his girl a blonde? The thought barely has time to process as a red-headed woman clad in black grabs him by the collar and whirls him face first into a wall.

The Black Widow has her man pinned down and out of the camera's view. Not that the security guard will notice-she _might _have snipped a wire or two before coming here. The man gags and Natasha brings her gun to his throat as she forces her weight against him. "Jang!" she orders. "I need to know where he is!" Her phone's AI unit begins to translate her words into Korean.

More gagging from the target, followed by a swear.

Natasha jabs the cold tip of her gun against the man's temple. "You know where he is. Tell me or I shoot you and the girl."

"'Girl?'" he softly repeats in his native tongue.

"I know about the drugs," Natasha threatens. "And I have the girl with me. Tell me where Jang is, and I won't leak your entire scheme to a higher authority."

Choi begins to squirm as he senses the truth in what he's just heard. She seems to know too much to be lying, but can he be so sure?

"Her name is Lucy, and the drug is CPH4. It was stuffed inside of her. By Killian?" Natasha assumes. "Aldrich Killian gives the orders, does he not?"

"Th-the Westin," he sputters. "Hotel," he chokes as he receives a punch to his back. Mr. Jang will certainly be hearing about this woman.

"You know the room?"

"405…"

Natasha steps back, but she's not letting this guy off so easily, though. She lowers her gun and chooses to replace it with a butterfly knife.

Choi spins around on his heel, ready to deliver a blow to this woman's face. But she's faster. He doesn't even get a chance to blink. Suddenly, he's seeing red as he feels a stinging pain across his right arm. He lurches forward, eyes wide as he stares down at the gash across his wrist in horror.

While he's hunched below Natasha's eye-line, she tightens the grip around her blade as the stainless steel sheathes itself into Choi's shoulder. A piercing shriek forces Natasha to rip the blade out, spraying her face and hair with a light mist of crimson.

She needs to go.

But before she does, she decides to show the man some mercy…

With 20,000 volts from her widow's sting. It's just enough to pack a punch, but not enough to completely knock him out just yet. He deserves to suffer, after all.

* * *

><p>Lucy's busy making her way towards her destination when straight ahead, 18.6 feet, to be exact, she spies an all too familiar face.<p>

Clint Barton is shuffling past a couple wearing a purple hoodie and those sunglasses he's always wearing despite how it's been dark for seventy-seven minutes.

He looks older since the last time she's seen him. It's the more prominent wrinkles etched into his forehead, along with several grey hairs scattered atop his scalp. A one second glance is all Lucy needs before turning back in the other direction. She can take a different route. The one thing that will never change about Clint Barton is his vision, keen like a hawk's.

On a plus note, if he's here, that means S.H.I.E.L.D. is on this case in some way or other. Lucy will have extra help in roping in the remaining hostages and safely extracting the drugs with Clint's help. She assumes that her armed hospital entry has gone global, reaching S.H.I.E.L.D.S.'s radar… That would mean Clint is here to take her back home to answer to Nick Fury regarding this 'incident.'

Revenge comes first, though. Saving the hostages is next.

She can catch up with Clint later.

* * *

><p>Her ears follow the tune of a quiet instrumental piece. As she struts down a carpeted hall, the music grows louder. Jang's room draws nearer and the Black Widow sheds her trench coat. She reaches the door and reveals the master key card (this was an easy one to swipe from the handsome and naive receptionist on duty).<p>

Natasha opens the door and waltzes in like it's her own room. There's a bed straight ahead dressed in crisp white sheets and Jang is resting atop it, eyes closed as he relaxes to the music playing from the TV. She stands there for a moment and throws her coat onto the floor.

Jang happens to crack open an eye and at first glance, he assumes this lovely lady will be his company for tonight. He smoothly beckons her over and the woman reaches into her belt for her phone.

Natasha flashes the man a grin when her AI translates Jang's statement as 'let me unzip that costume, sweetheart.' The Black Widow struts towards the bed with a playful smirk. She sets her phone atop the comforter as she crawls between Jang's spread legs. Her hands reach for his loosened tie and teasingly undoes the knot, eyes locked on Jang's lightly perspiring face. His shirt's top two buttons are already undone, so Natasha begins unbuttoning the rest, displaying the matted hairs across his chest.

Jang reaches for a glass of champagne on the nightstand and takes a long swig. His gaze happens to lower to the woman's ample bosom. The teasing bit of cleavage forces him to act on his carnal instincts. He sets aside the glass and helps the red-head out by sliding her zipper down her middle.

Natasha forces a convincing hum of approval and arches her back.

"What kind of costume is this?" he sneers.

She grins and reaches for his free hand. "The kind my clients fear." She raises his arm above his head and brings her body closer to his. There's a pause as her phone translates, and it leaves Jang with a puzzled look. Her smile falls and she reaches into her back pocket. She quickly draws one of her knives and expertly twirls it around before letting the blade fly straight into the man's palm, pinning his flesh to the mahogany bed post.

He lets out a prolonged shout, followed by a stream of curses and flailing about.

Natasha responds by stabbing his other hand beside its partner. There's even more shouting, so she shoves her forearm into his mouth. She feels his teeth baring down, even breaking the skin, but she doesn't flinch. "Tell me about the drug!" she hisses. There's a flash of fear within his dark beady eyes. "Tell me, or Aldrich Killian learns that you're responsible for the fall this company," she threatens. His jaw loosens, so she removes her arm. "My phone's being tapped by my employer. All of FuturePharm's equipment is, actually."

"You bitch!"

Natasha reaches for her knife and begins twisting the handle until there's a gruesome crack. There goes at least one bone in his hand…

"_Fuck!_"

"Does the 'super soldier' serum ring any bells?" she prods. "Captain America..." She releases the blade as her victim opens his mouth.

He nods, then proceeds to spit on her thigh.

"Is CPH4 the street name, then?" she asks. "What exactly does it do?" Her mission report was brief since the drug is still unknown.

"B-brain enhancer…" he mutters.

"Does it affect any other parts of the body?"

Jang bows his head as his vision grows foggy.

Natasha grabs his chin and forces their eyes to meet. "Just the brain, then?"

As he watches her blurred face, the red hair fades into blonde. Suddenly, Jang is able to recognise her. "_Lucy_…"

Natasha gives him a swift smack across the cheek. "Where the hell are your drug mules!?" she demands. His head falls back and slams into the headboard. He's already falling unconscious and the temptation to finish him right here and now is an unyielding gnawing in Natasha's stomach. She reaches for her knife and yanks it out. If she doesn't get a hold of Barton soon, Jang's not gonna live to see another five minutes. She reaches behind her for her phone, but it's gone.

"Clint is fairly close," a voice informs her. "Six blocks away. He's gotten lost twice, but he'll come around."

Natasha's heart sinks into her stomach. She wants to turn around, but what if this is some kind of illusion?

"I know where the others are," the woman's voice continues.

A head of messy blonde curls blocks Natasha's vision. She blinks, holding her breath as the blonde's fingers press against Jang's temples. "You were taken hostage," Natasha breathes.

"I escaped. And I suppose I would be lying if I said that you were of no help," she drawls, reflecting on her escape from her bleak cell. "He wasn't lying about the enhanced brain activity."

Natasha's brows furrow. She's afraid to speak her next question, but it's pressing at the front of her mind and it won't leave her alone. "You took the drugs?" There's a pause. "Lucy…"

The blonde shoots the red-head an empty glare. "Are you accusing me of taking the drugs on my own free will?" She knows Natasha didn't mean it that way, but she wants to pour salt into the wound. Lucy can't recall ever seeing the woman so shaken up. She was always so… serious…especially around her. "Killian and his men performed an operation to make me an honorary drug mule," she continues, returning her eyes to Jang. Lucy lets his memories become her own. She finds herself looking through his eyes as he reaches into the top drawer of his desk for four passports. The first is Lucy's. Next is the girl with the scars. Her name is Ellen Brandt and a plane ticket to Paris is tucked into the booklet by Jang's thick fingers. The bald man, Jasper Sitwell, is given a trip to Berlin. Trevor Slatterly is last, receiving a ticket to Rome. Lucy's actually seen the bearded man before-he's an actor, and she's seen two of his movies. "We need to contact S.H.I.E.L.D.," she announces to Natasha. Lucy strays from Jang's side and leaves the bed. "The flights for the hostages left at 7:47," she recites, staring out the window at a dark and starless sky. "It's already 9:02. We need operatives at the airports of the following loc-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Natasha interrupts, watching the girl in disbelief.

Lucy turns to meet the Widow's emerald stare. "The drug has taken effect. Unlike you, I _do _know everything," she haughtily adds. It's making Natasha narrow her eyes and if Lucy didn't feel so hollow, she would feel both proud and terrified of what she has coming.

"Is that how you're talking to me now?" Natasha zips up her suit and rises from the bed to be at the blonde's level.

Lucy senses a rise in the woman's blood pressure. "A little late for you to parent me."

"I'm not parenting you!" Natasha snaps.

"And you never have," she flatly retorts. Her eyes fall to Natasha's phone and she punches in the password. 0310, rather, March tenth, Lucy's birthday. She wonders if it's sentiment… or a reminder to get your kid a gift and pretend you care for one day.

"Give me that." Natasha makes a grab for her phone, but Lucy's reflexes are quicker. A quick huff of frustration escapes her. This isn't the Lucy she knows. Her Lucy is a bright girl, but not bright enough to maintain anything higher than a 2.3 GPA. She's not this athletic, either. Natasha tried getting her into gymnastics as a toddler, but after a couple of months, tantrums would start every time Natasha mentioned where they were going.

"I know we've always had our differences," Lucy states as she scrolls to Clint's name in the contacts menu. "But look at us now. Both victims of an imitation Captain-America serum." She looks up to see the rage burning in Natasha's eyes. "Like mother like daughter, right, Mom?"

_She doesn't deserve this… _Natasha's chest begins to ache as she recalls doctors clad in white, daily doses of medication, the icy prick of a syringe in her arm… She will gladly return to those nightmarish days in the Red Room if it would've kept Lucy from this fate. Her narrowed eyes remain fixed on her daughter's as she masks her fear with a stoic expression.


	6. Strategy

Natasha brushes past the girl to grab the opened bottle of champagne. "Call Barton. Tell him to get over here…" This isn't how she expected her night to go. She should be happy Lucy's safe, but why does she feel like grinding her teeth when she looks at her?

"You feel intimidated," Lucy drones without even looking at the redhead. Her thumb presses Clint's name and the phone begins calling the archer. "I can beat you with four moves in twenty-two seconds if you'd like to challenge me," she offers as she brings the phone to her ear.

Natasha doesn't bother to answer. She does, however, wonder just how much these drugs are affecting her. Lucy could be reading her mind right this second… Natasha cautiously eyes her while taking a swig of champagne. There's also the question of what happens to her from here on out. Will Lucy carry out a long, youthful life just like her? Natasha can only imagine how Matt will react when he hears what happened to his daughter. He'd break out his signature crimson suit and nun-chucks, then board a S.H.I.E.L.D. jet to take care of FuturePharm singlehandedly…

"Barton?" Lucy uses her best impersonation of the Black Widow once he answers his phone. "I need you at the Westin ASAP. I've got our guy…"

The assassin's brows furrow as Lucy's tone drops to match hers perfectly. She can even sense the Natasha Romanoff vibes. Is Clint even fooled? Because she certainly is.

"Look it up on your phone," Lucy says with a forced huff. "Room 405. Tell the front desk you're Jang's employee," she instructs before ending the call. Lucy tosses the phone to Natasha who catches it, her eyes still locked on her daughter. "I can read your brainwaves," she explains. "And no, I won't get to live a prolonged life, so don't worry about me anymore."

"'Don't worry?'" Natasha slams down the glass bottle on the nightstand, making the contents angrily swish around. "How do you expect me to not worry? I've been worrying since I _forced _myself into joining this mission!" she snaps. "I'm not here on assignment! Fury wanted me to have no part in this!" She storms towards Lucy until their noses are mere inches apart. "So don't you **dare **accuse me of not caring!"

Lucy watches her, unblinking. "Why now?" she prods, looking the woman dead in the eyes. "Why care now? Why not choose to care when you and dad would shout and hit each other while I had to hide and watch?" Her tone hardens and her light green eyes begin to darken. "You never stopped to consider how much pain you were putting me in." Her eyes are now a jet black. "I was four. Four years old and watching **you **scream about how _I _ruined your career-your **life!**"

"Lucy." Natasha calmly reaches for her daughter's hand, only to have it slapped away.

The brief contact with her mother's gloved hand makes her blood boil, but at the same time, it leaves her heart feeling like lead. Lucy pauses as she allows the rush of emotion to pass through her and quickly fade away. She starts to feel empty again, and she quiets herself as the natural hue of her eyes returns.

"Lucy?" The girl's body is still now, but Natasha's prepared if she chooses to attack.

Lucy's eyes flicker to Natasha's. "Why do I make you so angry?"

Natasha breathes in and folds her arms across her chest. "All kids make their parents angry. Especially ones affected by a knockoff drug that's-"

"I'm not asking for your sarcasm," Lucy interrupts, mimicking Natasha's crossed arms. "I'm asking for an answer to my question."

Natasha closes her eyes as she lowers herself onto the bed's edge. "I'm angry with what's happened to you," she states, eyes on the girl. "Killian did this to you, and I'm figh-"

"I've always been a nuisance to you," she butts in. "Why bother having a child if you aren't fit to care for it?" she prods.

"What?" Natasha scoffs. "Are you unhappy with how I've been paying for your education, your food, your clothes? I was doing all I could for you in between work…" Lucy's judging stare tells her that that wasn't the answer she wanted. Natasha heavily sighs before choosing to give a clearer answer. "Matt wanted to settle down," she explains. "I was never married, so I thought I'd give domestic life a go." She stares up at Lucy. "I've been around since the twenties. Can you blame me for wanting to try something new?" More silence from Lucy. "We worked well on the field, so I figured married life shouldn't be any different. And it wasn't for the first two years," she shrugs. "Then I found out I was pregnant. Neither of us was ready for a baby because I was told it couldn't happen." She stretches her arms behind her and rests her palms against the mattress. "So I took time off and laid low until I had you." She watches Lucy and recalls when she was a crying mess with pink skin, tufts of blonde curls, and no bigger than her arm. "You terrified me," Natasha admits with a chuckle. "I knew I would mess up at some point. I felt it when you were in my arms, screaming nonstop… But I loved you. And I wanted to keep you safe… I still do, Lucy," she corrects after a pause. Her daughter is intently watching. Natasha isn't even sure if she's breathing… "But I messed up. A lot… I wasn't there when you needed me."

Lucy begins to nod. "You're here now," she replies in a monotone. "Too late to prevent this, but you're here."

"We'll have the drug flushed from your system," Natasha says as she stands.

"My cells are multiplying too fast to stop this," she informs the agent. "I can only describe it as 'being consumed' by it." She stares down at her hand and her eyes see past the skin to observe the blood pumping through her veins, then a view of her tendons, her bones…

"Then we'll get Killian to create something to slow things down," Natasha assures her. "Believe me, he'll do it. It'll be the last thing he ever does," she adds, grinding her teeth.

As Natasha speaks, Lucy focuses on her own body, every process, every cell, every vein pumping blood… Her system is like a computer. She can choose which processes to close, which folders to open… The only thing she's losing access to is her cells. They've just started tripling every half a second and it's becoming more difficult to continue destroying others while trying to keep her system balanced. She can feel something start to block her commands like a virus. "I can't even slow it down." How can she explain this to her mother in terms she can understand? "My body… my brain… Something is slipping. Rather, my body… isn't my own…"

Natasha reaches out to hold her hand. It's clammy, but warm. "Your motor skills are being affected?"

"Not that." She lets her fingertips align with Natasha's. "The cells aren't under my control. Minds of their own…" She lifts her head to meet Natasha's gaze. Her mother's eyes are wide with a _very _rare look of surprise. It leaves Lucy alarmed to say the least, so she quickly retracts her hand as her mother continues to stare.

"How did you do that?" Natasha breathes.

Lucy steps back and notices a flash of red in the corner of her eye. Her fingers grab the fiery crimson. It's her mother's hair. Only it's on _her_ head… Lucy spins around on her heel and makes a run for the bathroom mirror. Natasha's there staring back at her and she's giving Lucy a blank stare. Lucy reaches out to touch the cool glass and her mother's hand acts in tandem with hers.

"Lucy…"

Now there's another Natasha in the reflection. That one's the real Natasha. "I don't know how…" Lucy slinks away from the mirror to stare down at her body. Black catsuit, gun holsters on her thighs... The clothes aren't the only thing similar to the Widow. Her boobs feel a cup size bigger and there's more muscle, especially in the arms and legs. Mentally, Lucy feels herself, or as much as 'herself' as she can feel with the drug's effects. On the outside, she's become a carbon copy of Natasha Romanoff. She went from inheriting her mother's curls, lips, and nose to physically _becoming _the woman she loathes.

"Can you change back?" Natasha wonders. Lucy turns to her and it's a little off-putting to see a clone of her.

"I don't even know how I did this." She closes her eyes and focuses on who _she _is. Blonde hair, light green eyes… _Not _Natasha…A six beat knock interrupts her thoughts.

Natasha goes to answer the door, fully aware that it's Clint. They both have their own special 'secret code' for events like this. "Barton," she sighs upon opening the door. "Let's talk outside."

"No," Lucy's voice interrupts.

"Lucy?" Clint blinks.

She approaches Natasha from behind, finally herself again.

Natasha notes that she's back to normal, so she step back to allow Clint inside. "She's been drugged."

"And I can help you," Lucy states. "I know where the hostages are going with the rest of Killian's drugs," she explains as she and Natasha lead Clint to Jang's bed. "First we'll need to transport his body-out the window and onto the roof. Call out another agent and have them bring a helicopter up to the roof to take him into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody."

"How much did you tell her about the mission?" Clint whispers to his partner.

"Absolutely nothing," Natasha mutters.

Lucy ignores the comment and chooses to continue her speech. "We need to split up and get the three hostages. Natasha can bring in Ellen Brandt, she lands tomorrow at the Charles de Gaulle at 12:02pm. Clint can take in Trevor Slatterly-yes, the actor," she quickly adds since she knows it's his next question. "He arrives at the Fiumicino at 2:37pm. I'll take Sitwell and we'll all meet back in New York. From there we'll have the drugs removed and let the hostages go after recovering from surgery."

"And Killian?" Natasha asks.

"We'll have his merchandise. He'll come to us."

"I can contact Fury and we'll have our guys lock down FuturePharm," Clint butts in. "No more hiding for any of those guys."

Lucy nods in agreement with the plan. "You have arrows with you," she tells Clint. "One of them is a grappling hook. Would you like the honour of taking Jang to the roof while Natasha gets the standby agents to bring in transportation?"

Clint scratches the back of his neck and gives the girl an uneasy nod. He'd much rather know what's going on with her, but work comes first.

"We've got one copter with us to take Jang, then the jet to drop us off at the airports," Natasha notes as she whips her phone out.

Clint throws his hoodie over his head to reveal a retractable bow and some arrows slung across his black and purple suit. "About the window…"

Lucy makes sure to turn up the TV's volume while Natasha gives the glass three shocks from her bracelet. The glass shatters and begins to rain down into the darkness.

"I'll act fast so there's no attention brought to us," Clint smirks as he reaches for Jang.

"We'll meet you on the roof," Lucy tells him. Part one of the plan is already in effect and running smoothly. Lucy isn't too worried about the rest-she's played it out in her head and everything works out in the end. Everything except for her, but she can face her fate when the time comes.


	7. Barriers

"So…" Clint shifts in his seat as he sits across from the mother/daughter duo. "This drug…it's warping your brain?" He feels a bit uncomfortable asking Lucy, but he's curious. She dished out an entire plan of action in under one minute. That kind of thing takes at _least _an hour, give or take. If not for Lucy, he and Natasha would be stuck trying to track down three of Killian's hostages with whatever info S.H.I.E.L.D. picked up from FuturePharm. They'd be screwed if that were the case. Killian's drug would make it onto the black market and affect handfuls of people on a global scale.

Lucy sinks back in her cushioned seat and shuts her eyes. "I'm unlocking all of my hidden potential," she muses. "And making a sacrifice to benefit humankind."

"Fury should make you an honorary agent after this," Clint chuckles.

"Either way, I die a hero's death," she hums.

Natasha's eyes dart from her phone to Lucy. "Don't talk like that!"

Clint feels his heart drop to his stomach at the sudden exchange. _Lucy's dying now? _He watches the girl, floored by what she's just said. It feels like it was just last week when he was visiting the hospital to see the tiny 'spider baby' as he had called her. Now he's supposed to accept that she's dying? He turns to Natasha, desperate for some kind of explanation.

"We'll sort this out once we've acquired the hostages," Natasha vows. Her eyes slowly return to her phone.

Lucy keeps quiet because she knows Natasha will yell and fight her with useless promises that she has absolutely no control over. She can sense her mother's harbored regret that she keeps bottled up. It's dangerous, not to mention it makes her more hostile. Lucy's picking up a spike in her blood pressure that makes her realize that the woman's fretting over _her_. She carefully observes Natasha's phone. Her thumb is hovering dangerously close over her father's name. Does she plan to tell him what's happening? Lucy's willing to make the call for Natasha to spare her the grief of speaking with her ex, but she's curious to see how Natasha will choose to handle a conversation with her father.

Lucy can see one instance where Natasha straight out tells him everything that's happening to their daughter. In another instance, she calls Matt to have a casual conversation. It starts with 'I talked with Lucy. She seemed stressed.' To which her father will agree by stating that his last call with her felt awkward… Natasha's still mentally debating about making the call, and Lucy knows exactly why. "If you tell him, he won't blame you," Lucy says aloud.

Natasha shoots her a glare and forces her phone's screen to go black. "Don't do whatever it is you're doing," she groans, bringing a hand to her face.

"Doesn't it make you feel better knowing that Matt won't blame you for what's happened to me?" Lucy continues. "Like you, he'll want to find a way to fix what's happened to me. He'll be as torn up as you are." Her hand moves to a lump in the front pocket of her jeans. What's left inside the tiny bag of blue is much safer with her until they're back at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ.

"I'll handle this on my own, Lucy," Natasha answers, pinching the bridge of her nose. Part of her wonders if this is just a scheme to get her to talk things over with Matt. Lucy pulled the same trick when she was six during a 'mother-daughter' weekend. She claimed that she left her doll at Matt's and she couldn't sleep without it. Natasha was forced to call her ex to keep her screaming child quiet, and it worked… until he showed up, knocked, then took a taxi straight home. To Lucy's dismay, her plan failed. Natasha begins to watch Lucy from behind a veil of red curls. Would a twenty-four year old woman still pull these tricks just to get mommy and daddy back together? Lucy knows how unhappy their marriage was… Or maybe Lucy isn't doing it for her own personal benefit… Lucy is Matt's world. If she's really not going to survive this mess, Matt will be destroyed. And alone. Natasha looks away and decides that she'll call Matt when Lucy's not around. She can't even remember the last time she called him. Their only communications are an occasional phone call that never lasts more than three minutes. If Lucy really won't make it, then Natasha knows that she'll have to be there for Matt. For Lucy's sake.

Clint eyes the two women, still oblivious to any subtext behind their conversation. All he can see is that Lucy has a distant look in her eyes while Natasha's mentally beating herself up over something, most likely a 'Matt' thing.

Lucy's the first to be dropped off. Before leaving the two assassins, she gives herself straight dark brown hair and a short black dress. Clint nearly has a heart attack upon seeing her dawn a disguise in the blink of an eye, but Natasha looks unimpressed "Remember to get to your hostage before Killian's men do," she warns. Lucy exits the jet and makes her way towards the Schonefeld airport. Disguise is key for her. Killian's henchmen are going to be stationed within the airport, and if Lucy's recognised, then it's game over.

She walks with confidence, blending in with a family and another couple as they pass through the airport's main doors. German is being spoken all around her and for someone who's never been exposed to the language, she's able to decipher it as if it's her native tongue. Lucy happens to walk by a police officer with a German Shepherd. The canine's taken an interest in Lucy and he pulls on his leash in hopes for a closer sniff. Lucy knows what it wants. She's got Killian's goods tucked inside a handbag to match her dress. Lucy turns to eye the dog as he pulls the officer closer to her. She gives the animal a hard stare as she sends a telepathic signal to block the dog's sense of smell. He stops, then resumes a seated position to recover from the false alarm. Lucy continues walking and following the signs that guide her to the arrival gate. She's fifty-seven minutes early thanks to the jet's speed, so she chooses to sit and wait. As she does so, her sensitive ears pick up a man in a black suit mention Killian's name into his phone. Lucy stares straight ahead out at the wall-length window overlooking the incoming planes as she eavesdrops in on the conversation. Killian's men are here, and from what she's overhearing on the phone, they're arriving at the other airports, as well.

* * *

><p>Clint sits across from Natasha for an uncomfortable thirty minute flight to Rome. He wants to ask his partner about Lucy, especially her magic disguise trick, but Natasha keeps glancing down at her phone every three minutes. "I've got headphones if you wanna call someone," he finally offers.<p>

Natasha ignores the offer. "We're landing soon," she warns her partner who's still dawning his hero suit.

He reaches under the seat and pulls out her duffel bag, then his own. "I'll go change," he grunts.

Natasha waits for Clint to trudge over to the tiny bathroom to finally give Matt a call. The phone rings four times before he finally picks up.

"Hello?" His voice is heavy with sleep.

_Time difference, _Natasha reminds herself. "Matt. It's me," she begins. "Sorry. I'm travelling," she adds.

"Oh yeah?" he hums.

She can hear his mattress creak as he shifts in his bed.

"My alarm hasn't even gone off yet."

"I think it's just after five over there," Natasha assumes.

"I have a meeting today, so it's good that I'm up a little early."

Natasha can sense a tired smile in his voice.

"Is everything okay, Natasha?"

She hesitates, but then she thinks of their daughter. He needs to know. "I'm with Lucy, actually."

"Lucy…" There's a sudden urgency in his voice. "What happened?"

Natasha can't hide this from him. "A mission." This much is true. "I've been sent in so I wanted to visit."

Matt heaves a sigh of relief. "How is she, really? Last I talked to her, she seemed a bit off…"

_The drugs, probably. _Natasha's fingers tighten around her phone. "She's been sick," she smoothly lies. In a way, their little girl is sick, but Natasha can't bring herself to tell him the whole story. Not now, and definitely not over the phone. "She's asleep now, so I'm with her."

"Are you sure she's alright?"

"She yelled at me about not wanting me to baby her," Natasha lies with a brief laugh. "Sounds like she's fine."

"Yeah," Matt agrees with a chuckle. "She's lucky for your convenient timing."

Natasha nods. "A coincidence, yeah." She hears Clint open and close the bathroom door. "I'll call you-Lucy will call you," she quickly corrects. "Once she's awake."

"Thank you."

"Take care, Matt."

"Goodbye, Natasha."

There's a warmth to his voice and Natasha can almost feel his stubble against her cheek as he speaks into her ear. "Bye," she says as she ends the call. They aren't as close as they were before their marriage, but despite that and the fights they used to get into, Natasha still cares about him. He's one of her oldest friends and she wants to hold onto him. Maybe once all this is over, they can go back and rekindle their friendship. She knows that would make Matt happy. Natasha has always been the one to push him away, but she can't bring herself to do it anymore if they lose Lucy.

Clint s falls back into his seat and kicks his duffel bag beneath it. "Nat?" He hunches forward, watching her as he laces his fingers.

She grabs her own bag and begins rifling through it for her leather jacket.

"What's going on with Lucy?" As focused as she looks while searching for a change of clothes, he knows that she's stalling. "Is she… is she really dying?"

She stops, then gives her partner a hard glare. "I don't know." Her tone is as cold as her stare.

"You've gotta talk to me, Tasha," he urges. "You can't even tell Matt-who _are _you willing to tell?"

"We're landing…" Natasha's fingers find her jacket and grip it with unnecessary strength.

Clint abandons his seat to sit beside Natasha. There she goes throwing up walls again. Getting close to the assassin has always been the hardest mission of all. "It's okay, Nat," he breathes, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Natasha whips the jacket out of her bag and throws it over Clint's head. "Your stop is soon," she growls as she hurries to the bathroom.

Clint tears her coat away just as he hears the door slam shut. There's nothing he can do to help Natasha now. She's got her barriers up and she's shutting down. He always hates it when she's like this…


	8. Safety

Natasha's the last to be dropped off. Paris. She hasn't been here in over a year. The trip was for a mission, of course. The Black Widow is all work and no play.

She adjusts her sunglasses as she enters the airport. A group of three men dressed in black happen to stride right past her. Natasha follows since they all seem to be on the way to the same destination-the gate where passengers on a flight from Taipei are getting ready to come in.

Natasha strays from the group of men to take a seat in the waiting lounge. As she waits, she absently checks her phone as the men speak to one another in their native tongue, Korean, she assumes. She has a plan in mind that should keep these guys at bay. The Black Widow isn't necessarily _all _work. She knows how to have fun, even on the clock.

She watches the plane descend and travel down the runway. It stops, and Natasha checks her phone for any messages. Nothing yet. She then stands and heads for the gate. Killian's men have the same idea, but Natasha knows she'll get to Ellen Brandt before they can. The poor girl doesn't even know what's coming for her…

Natasha's soon joined by several others, two of which are holding handmade signs. The plane's passengers soon come into view and she recalls Lucy's description of the hostage-stringy red hair, hazel eyes, and a scar across her left cheek. Natasha easily picks out the young redhead in the group and struts towards her. She looks to be about Lucy's age. That makes Natasha even more desperate to keep her safe. Her parents probably have no idea… Natasha pulls the girl into a gentle hug. The girl's thin frame stiffens beneath the stranger's touch. "I'm here to save you from the drugs," Natasha quickly whispers. "Follow my lead." She ends the hug and smiles warmly at the young woman. "Mom and Dad are waiting in the car!" Natasha grins, her voice speaking at a higher register than normal. "Did you have a good trip?" She begins leading Ellen into a crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices one of the men in suits spot Ellen as he mutters into his phone. "Stay close," Natasha warns.

"Did they give you a bag, too?" Ellen asks once she and the stranger slink away from a herd of people.

Natasha lets go of her hand as they near the entrance. "No. But I'm here to help you." She checks her phone and makes sure her camera focuses on her face. Natasha stares past her reflection to spy on everyone in the background. No trace of Killian's men yet.

"Hey." The girl picks up her pace and cranes her neck for a better look at the Black Widow's face. Something about her feels familiar. She's seen her face before. Ellen recalls the moment where she was gathered into a room with the other three victims. Her eyes met with a blonde's for only a second, but that second burned itself into her memory. "You're the other girl…" She stops, making Natasha shoot her a glare.

"Keep moving!" Natasha snaps. "They'll catch up to us at any moment."

"You were blonde when I saw you," Ellen continues, side-eying Natasha.

"That was my daughter," she breathes.

Ellen continues to stare, watching as the woman's curls lightly bounce as she walks. If her memory serves her right, this woman looks exactly like the girl from before. IT would make sense for them to be related. The woman does look a little young to be a mother, though. There's still something about the redhead that's familiar, and it's not just the blonde from earlier. Her mind is trying to recall a gossip magazine, or maybe it was a show, where she's seen this woman's face… "Where is she now?" she asks in hopes of wiping away the feeling of déjà vu she gets from thinking about the redhead. Why wouldn't a mother be with her own daughter? She'd kill to have her mom with her right now.

"Obtaining one of the others," Natasha answers. "I'm gonna make sure you get home safely, Ellen."

They leave the airport and Ellen stops. Natasha is forced to turn and shoot her a glare. "How do you know my name?"

Natasha knows she needs to establish a stronger trust with the girl or she'll lose her to Killian. "Lucy knew. My daughter," she adds. Natasha's eyes flicker past the glass doors as she spots a man in a black suit drawing near. "Unlike you, the drugs entered her system. They're killing her."

"You don't seem too concerned," Ellen notices.

The man in the suit is drawing closer to the revolving doors. Natasha grabs Ellen by the wrist and yanks her into a sprint. "Believe me, I am," she huffs as they make a run for the parking lot. "You're being tracked. I've got a jet waiting for us, but we need to get past the guy tailing us first," Natasha announces as she leads Ellen past rows of cars.

Ellen looks behind her to see some couples, a family, and few people walking alone as they navigate the full parking lot.

"Would you rather live your life being constantly watched by the guy who drugged you, or get off scot-free?" the Widow wagers.

She snaps her fingers. "_Now _I know you! The Avengers."

Natasha acknowledges her with her lips pressed in a thin line. "Now can you trust me?"

"Can I meet Iron Man?" she teases with a smirk.

There's a shout across the lot and it's directed at them. Natasha doesn't need to look to know exactly who it is. "Let's focus on making a break for it first."

"I was told I could go home after the drugs were taken out!" She glances behind and once she sees the familiar face of the man who took her hostage, the incision along her stomach begins to throb. "I-I can't keep up!"

Natasha stops and watches as the girl hunches forward to grab her middle. Her phone starts to vibrate in her pocket. Either Barton or Lucy is checking in to announce they've acquired the target. They're probably having a much easier time than she is… "Come on." Natasha places a hand against the girl's back and slowly strides alongside her. She guides Ellen towards a black SUV and lets her sit down on the ground. "I'll handle this," the Widow swears before leaving the girl's side.

Ellen watches as she catches her breath. The Avenger steps into view of Killian's henchman. She's shoved aside and Ellen sucks in a deep breath as the strange man draws closer to her. He starts speaking in a foreign tongue as his thick fingers snatch a fistful of her hair. She reaches out to claw at his hand with her stubby nails, but stops when he sputters a choked whimper. Her eyes are wide as his hand releases her and his body falls to the side, smacking into a car door before hitting the pavement.

Behind him stands Natasha, adjusting one of the bullets that rest around her wrist. "He'll be out cold for a few hours," she assures Ellen. "Let's catch our ride."

She nods, dumbfounded as Natasha guides her away from the parking lot and over towards where the planes dock.

* * *

><p>"She's been passed out since we left," Natasha says to Clint after he's taken the seat across from her.<p>

"Did you wear her out?" he teases as a man with a thick beard sits beside him.

"Let's just say it wasn't smooth sailing for us," she snorts as she eyes Ellen, currently occupying a row of three seats as her makeshift bed.

"We made it out just fine," Clint gloats. "Then we got food and I got some selfies." He foolishly grins. "The guy at the hotel recognised him, so that caused a bit of a commotion," he adds. Clint turns to Mr. Slattery, one of Hollywood's finest, who's currently zoning out in his seat as the jet takes off.

"Has Lucy called in yet?" Natasha asks, bringing forth the more pressing matter.

"No." Clint turns to her, brows furrowed. "I'm sure she's okay. She's smarter than Stark and Banner combined, right?"

Natasha crosses her arms and lets her gaze fall to her lap. "I'd still like a call."

"There's no way she got caught-you saw her disguise!" Clint assures her.

Natasha nods. She has faith that Lucy's succeeding, but her stomach is starting to knot up as she contemplates just how long the girl has left. What if they arrive at her designated pickup destination and there's no Lucy? She could be dead now. Gone, forever…

"Tasha…" Clint's voice softly murmurs. "She's okay." He nudges the toe of his boot against hers and chuckles when she kicks back. "That kid's learned from the best."

Natasha would beg to differ. She doesn't see herself as a role model to her child, but if Clint's right, then Lucy must have a strong will to survive. Her eyelids soon grow heavy and she gives in to her body's need for sleep. The first thing she sees when she wakes up is Lucy forcing a half-smile as Clint uses her shoulder as a pillow. Natasha blinks to wipe the sleep from her eyes as she shifts in her seat. "You should've called in."

Lucy's pouty lips form a thin line. "Nothing went wrong with my part of the mission."

"I still would've liked a call," Natasha grumbles.

"To prove that I'm still alive…"

The plane falls quiet, aside from the hum as they fly through the air and the soft snoring of the occupants. Natasha hesitates before speaking. She stares into her daughter's eyes and wonders if she knows her next question. Just in case Lucy's not a mind reader, she chooses to ask her question aloud, mainly because she wants an answer. "Can we save you?"

Lucy's eyes fall shut as she bows her head.

That's enough of an answer for Natasha.


	9. Everywhere

_There has to be some way._

Lucy keeps her eyes focused on the cumulus clouds they're soaring above. The jet is twenty-two minutes from landing in New York and Lucy's itching to end this nightmare.

_I can save her…_

Lucy's stare hardens as she continues to overhear Natasha's thoughts.

_Matt will never forgive me._

Will the woman ever learn? Lucy knows how stubborn Natasha can be, but this is getting ridiculous. "Please stop," she growls, turning her head in the redhead's direction.

Natasha's head is tilted downward and her body is still, aside from the gentle rise and fall of her chest. _I can't lose her…_

"Something wrong, Luc?" Clint wonders.

Lucy continues to observe her mother's unmoving lips. Is Natasha dreaming about her? _Does_ she even dream about her?

"Lucy?" Clint worriedly watches as the girl longingly stares at her mother. "Let her rest. She hasn't-"

She shoots the archer a quick glare and he's suddenly out cold. "Clint." Her heart rate slows, but she can't process what it's like to feel afraid anymore. Her body is properly reacting to the scare with tensed muscles and wide eyes, but the raw emotions behind those reactions aren't there. "Clint." She just knocked out a man who's been like family to her with just one look…

Trevor Slatterly's eyes widen as Clint's head falls back against the seat. He then turns to Lucy and fears that he may not make it off this flight alive.

Clint's soon breathing normally and with a steady heart rate. Lucy watches him and sends a mental signal to the archer that urges him to awaken. She imagines his eyes start to open, and as she does, Clint cracks open his eyes as if Lucy is his puppet master.

"L…Luc..." His voice comes out gravely and he feels like he's just been awoken mid-nap.

"Lucy?" Now it's Natasha's turn to awaken.

The blonde turns to her mother and she wonders to herself just how far her body's power can take her. What if she accidentally sends a bad vibe in Natasha's direction and kills her? The drug is a curse. She's becoming the villain, and she can't allow for that to happen. "I need to use the bathroom." She unbuckles herself and hurries to lock herself in the tiny cubicle.

"What happened, Barton?" Natasha demands once Lucy is out of earshot.

Clint bows his head and runs his fingers through his hair. "I don't know."

"The girl's a witch," Trevor warns in a low whisper. His eyes dart towards the bathroom. "Knocked you out cold without even touching you," he informs Clint.

Natasha wants to roll her eyes and call the guy crazy, she can't help but worry about Lucy's overdose. She shifts in her seat and wonders if she should call Matt so they can meet somewhere. He should talk to his daughter one last time if this is really it.

"Sounds like a super soldier deal," Clint whispers under his breath.

Natasha lifts her head to find the archer staring at her. "Cap and I can't knock people out with our minds," she quietly reminds him. "We already know this is entirely cerebral… and it's now affecting how her whole system works." Shock treatment could be a possible option. She's had her own brain wiped countless times, but in return, she lost who she was before becoming the Black Widow. Natasha stands and moves towards the bathroom as she reflects on her options. Having Lucy forget who she is would be more bearable than losing her forever. "Lucy?" She waits by the door as she hears the faucet running. "Can we talk?" The sound of running water hitting porcelain continues. "Lucy?"

Inside, Lucy hears the woman loud and clear, but she doesn't make a peep. She keeps her back pressed against the locked door as she stares down at her left hand. Rather, what's left of it. Her last three fingers have disappeared down to her first knuckle. It started when she turned on the sink to splash some water on her face. The water's fast streaming took her digits, but there was no blood, let alone any remnants of the slopped off fingers. Lucy idly stares at her left hand as miniscule particles float up towards the ceiling. She feels the door budge against her back. Natasha wants in, and she'll break the door down if Lucy won't answer. "I'm okay," she murmurs.

"Then open the door!" Natasha snaps back.

"I need a minute." Lucy's afraid to open that door. Her body's unstable. The cells that compose her no longer wish to be a part of Lucy. They wish to be free.

"We're landing soon. Get out of there," Natasha warns using her sternest mothering tone.

"One se-" She stops mid-sentence as Natasha forcefully joggles the door handle. Lucy turns around and lets her right hand reaches for the lock. What if she can't even open it?

"Lucy…"

She senses the woman's blood pressure rising. Natasha would completely lose it if she sees her child missing fingers. She'll worry. The poor woman still has hope that her daughter can be saved. Lucy brings her left hand behind her back as she prepares to undo the lock. It clicks open with a ginger press on the handle. Her body seems to be more stable, so she adds a little more of her weight.

"Lucy!"

Natasha bangs on the door and Lucy is unexpectedly jerked forward. She can't regain her footing from her stumble and she falls face first into the door. As she falls in what feels like slow motion, her right hand and half of her arm burst into blue specks. Everything then fades to black as her head smacks the door and her mother shouts her name.

* * *

><p>"Lucy!"<p>

Her eyes flutter open and she finds herself staring up into her mother's green eyes.

"Thank God," she mutters for only Lucy to hear. Natasha notices her daughter's eyes begin to close, then open, revealing a pair of bright blue eyes that she wasn't born with. "Lucy?" she breathes. "Are you awake?"

Lucy's eyes slowly shut as she attempts to process what happened in the gap between the plane ride and now. She begins to replay the scenario in her mind.

After stumbling into the door, Lucy's body became completely undone. Everything that made up Lucy's physical body had dispersed into a mess of scattered cells. Though not physically present in the confines of the cramped bathroom, Lucy was everywhere for that brief moment. She remembers the door begin to creak open. Rather than give her mother the scare of a lifetime, Lucy knew that she couldn't remain a bodiless entity for the sake of her parents. She can't leave without bidding her father farewell. He'll be angry and mourn for months if he couldn't speak with her one last time. Keeping her parents in mind, the millions of pieces of Lucy scattered within that bathroom all came together to form a whole being.

Lucy knows she can't keep her current form forever, though. Much like her teenage self, her cells are rebelling. To remain as she is now, a human super computer, is too much of a burden. So what if she can now solve Pi and encrypt the human body to divulge the cure for cancer? An ordinary person alone shouldn't be able to carry the world on their shoulders. Lucy isn't human, nor can she identify as one. Pain is irrelevant, and her heart can't bring itself to ache for love. Lucy isn't the Lucy she was twenty-four hours ago. Clint can sense it, as can her own mother. She can never go back to being the Lucy who partied through the night and woke up with a splitting headache. She'd never be the girl who cried after a phone call with her dad, nor would she ever feel scorn when her mother leaves her a lackluster 'just checking in' voicemail.

"Lucy?" Natasha asks.

Is that who she still is?

"We're back home, Luc," she gently continues. "You're in the medical wing."

One glance is all Lucy needs to know that. She had only seen the medical floor once while touring with Clint years back. As large and secretive as S.H.I.E.L.D. is, Lucy now knows every floor, every corner… Their secrets are hers now, and all of that was learned just by staring up at obnoxiously bright fluorescent lights.

"You collapsed earlier," Natasha says. She sits back down in a chair close to the bed.

Natasha had been sitting in that chair for a solid two hours while Lucy remained unconscious. Though sleeping, she felt Natasha's presence. She feels everyone's presence. Like an advanced version of a dolphin's sonar, she can detect that the three rooms down from her currently occupy the victims of FuturePharm's drugs. The doctors are all preparing for surgery and all the patient's vitals are stable. "You've had a successful mission," she drones.

Natasha reaches for her daughter's pale hand. "It's only a success when we save you."

_Which isn't happening._

"Why did you pass out?" she prods. "I thought you'd recover faster, but you were out for over two hours."

"I tried rewiring my system." She closes her eyes, but she can still see the room's sterile walls and Natasha on her left, giving her a puzzled look as she crosses her arms. "I killed every cell in my body, but the very second I did, thousands more were born," she drawls. "My brain refuses to let me die."

Natasha purses her lips. "Are you in any pain?"

"No." There's silence and Lucy's getting odd vibes from her mother. She's fighting back the urge to ask a question that's raising her stress levels.

_Do you… You don't want to… Don't…_ Natasha can't even think of a coherent way to ask the question pressing on her mind.

"I do," Lucy states as she sits upright atop starched sheets. _I do want to die…_ Death seems to be the only thing lurking on the Widow's brain. Lucy's answer doesn't help her grief in the slightest. Natasha delivers a smack so rough that Lucy's head is jerked to the side. Her hand leaves a mark across her cheek, but it quickly fades.

"Don't read my mind!" Natasha hisses. Her hands are now balled up into tight fists to hide their trembling.

"Your thoughts are as clear as spoken words. There is no shutting it off."

Natasha pivots on her heel and moves towards the door. "Can your father talk any sense into you?"

"There has been a change in my speech patterns, same for my heartbeat," Lucy begins. "He will pick up on these slight changes. You know he always does." What her father lacks in sight, he makes up for with his other senses.

Natasha keeps her back to Lucy and tries to keep her mind blank. It's incredibly difficult to do, especially when your only kid wants to die. She tries focusing on her breathing, but she keeps thinking of how heartbroken Matt will be, and how pathetic she'll feel for not being able to save her daughter. Is this her punishment for all the innocent lives she's taken over the years?

"I don't mean to anger you." Lucy stares at the woman, unblinking. "This is not your punishment," she calmly continues. "You are not-"

"**Shut up!**" Natasha whips her head around and storms towards the bed. "I have every right to be angry! I was such a shit mother and now I'm killing my own kid!" she shouts in the blonde's face.

"Aldrich Killian killed me. And he is being apprehended as we speak."

Natasha chooses to ignore the Killian nonsense. She knows the truth. "I should've **saved **you! If I wasn't such shit to you, you'd be alive!"

Natasha is right, but Lucy won't admit that. Given Natasha did make more time in her life for Lucy, she'd have lived happily with her mother and father until moving out of state for college. She would have met men both her parents would disapprove of, until she found the right guy to settle down with… Lucy contemplates attempting to travel back in time, but time is such a delicate thing. She refuses to interfere with the fragile flow. "You did everything you could for me," she says in a daze. One part of her brain is forcing cells to die while another is running through ideas of how to fix this. "I don't hate you."

"Just say you do." There's the slightest crack in her voice as she reaches for Lucy's hand.

Erasing the memories of everyone would be complex, but it could work. She would need her existence erased on a global scale what with her time spent overseas. How, though? Develop a serum and have it dispersed into the air?... _The air… _She thinks back to her short-lived moment of being thousands of microscopic pieces.

"There were times I wished I never had you," Natasha quietly comments. "But then I'd think of how much you depended on me… You needed a mom." Her hand reaches out to stroke Lucy's hair. "Growing up for me was hell. And I made growing up for you hell, too…" Between the divorce and her hardly being home, Lucy was forced into a miserable situation. "I ruined your life."

Lucy simply shakes her head. "The Black Widow wasn't meant to be tied down."

"That's not the point." Natasha tightly grabs her arms and can see her own reflection in Lucy's bright blue eyes. "You're my responsibility. I should've put you before my own needs."

"You may be selfish, but you provided me with shelter, clothes, food-"

"You deserved more…" Natasha loosens her grip.

"You could have easily gotten rid of me before my birth," Lucy points out.

"Matt and I wanted to settle down. He had always wanted a kid." Natasha lowers her gaze. "But I wasn't as prepared for what was coming."

Lucy reaches out to her mother and gently lifts her chin so their eyes are level. "Your decision to give birth to me is proof you love me." She reflects back on the very first moment she saw Natasha's tired but smiling face.

_'Hi, Lucy,'_ she had whispered with a proud grin. Her voice was so warm and familiar, even though her face was something entirely new to a newborn Lucy.

"I've never seen you smile more than when I first saw you," Lucy continues. "Naturally, I loved you, especially your warmth."

Natasha gives her daughter an awkward stare.

"And as much as I frustrated you with the crying and dirty diapers, you always answered me when dad didn't." She manages the slightest smile. "You would hum me this song in Russian…" She pauses as a new-mother-Natasha's song begins to play in her memory. Natasha's voice was always soft and low, and Lucy does her best to honour the song with her own voice. "Калинка, калинка, калинка моя! В саду ягода малинка, малинка моя!"

Natasha tenses as the familiar melody brings back memories of holding Lucy in the middle of the night. She would always sit in an armchair by the window and the moonlight would always provide a gentle glow.

"Ах, под сосною, под зеленою, Спать положите вы меня!" Lucy sings.

"You remember that?" Natasha murmurs.

Lucy ceases her singing as realization flashes in her mother's eyes.

Natasha recalls Lucy always falling right to sleep before she made it halfway into the song. Then it was back to the crib where Lucy would sleep for a solid three or four hours. "You really liked that?" She swallows back the growing lump in her throat.

"I had a simple mind that was easy to please…" She wishes that she can convey some sarcasm, but she can't. The emotion has slipped, and she can't bring it back. "Your voice is the first I remember. Dad's is second, Nick is third…"

Natasha lowers her head and stifles a broken laugh.

So the humour came through after all. "Thank you." Lucy senses that the cells in her hand are beginning to disperse. Her physical form won't last much longer…

There's a long pause and Natasha continues to keep her head bowed.

"Mom."

She's still quiet, but before Lucy can speak again, Natasha lifts her head and smiles despite the tears that roll down her cheeks. "Ай-люли…" Her voice is shaky, but she needs to put up a strong front so her daughter won't see her have an extremely rare meltdown. "люли, ай-люли, люли, Спать положите вы меня." She feels Lucy's hand take hers. Their eyes refuse to look away from one another's as she continues the song. "Калинка, калинка, калинка моя! В саду ягода малинка, малинка моя!"

Lucy gives her a sideways smile, the same one she picked up from her mother. 'Thank you,' she mouths.

Natasha furrows her brows as an uneasiness in her gut begins to spread. She stops the song, but Lucy beckons for her to continue. "Ах, сосёнушка, ты зеленая, Не шуми ты надо мной!"

Lucy sends her a signal to close her eyes, and she obeys. She feels that now is the right time to go, so she gives herself over to her body's need to come undone. Her fingers are eaten away, same for her toes, her feet… Natasha is still oblivious as Lucy's childhood lullaby continues. Her arms and legs are next to vanish, but Lucy knows that she won't be going away completely. She will soon be a part of the universe and will wipe away every trace of her existence from those who knew her, as well as those who didn't. But she will still exist as an omnipresent being to watch over people like Natasha and Matt.

They won't remember her at all.

And that's for the best.

"Ай-люли, люли, ай-люли, люли, Не шуми ты надо мной!" Natasha suddenly catches herself singing and stops. Her brain is in a fog as she stands alone in a S.H.I.E.L.D. examination room.

"Pretty song," Clint muses as he stands in the doorway.

Natasha keeps her eyes fixed on the unmade bed before her. She feels streaks of water running down her cheeks which she quickly wipes away.

"Nat?" he asks. "Your head feeling better?"

She stops and turns to her partner. "Did I scare you when I passed out back there, Barton?" she smirks.

He shrugs and folds his arms over his chest. "Little bit. I've never seen lack of sleep hit you that hard before."

Natasha shrugs and heads towards the door. "I've been on nonstop flights, Barton," she casually explains. "Kicking ass and rescuing hostages… How are they?" she asks.

"Bags are being taken out now," he explains as they head down the hall. "Fury told me no traces of anything abnormal were in anyone's bloodstream, either, so that's a plus," he adds. "And we've got agents on their way to bring Killian in."

"No more drug scams for him," Natasha drawls.

"Oh!" Clint stops mid-step. "You told me to remind you to call Matt. Birthday."

Natasha purses her lips and instinctively reaches for the phone in her hip pocket. "Nothing like wishing an ex a happy birthday," she mumbles.

"I thought you two were a thing again," he snorts.

"We're always on and off…" She checks her phone and sees that she already has a missed call from him. "I'll be a minute," she tells Clint. "Meet me in Fury's office," she orders before turning on her heel. Natasha heads back to her medical cubicle and sits down on the bed as she calls back Matt. "Hi, Matt," she says as he picks up.

"Tasha."

She can sense a smile in his voice.

"Back from travelling?" he wonders.

"Mm," she hums. "But first, happy birthday," she grins.

"Thank you." He pauses. "You know, I was just thinking about you this morning," he muses. "What was that song you used to sing? The one in Russian with the snowberry."

Déjà vu washes over her as she recalls the countless times she's sang that to Matt on lazy mornings in bed together. "'Kalinka'…Funny, I was just thinking about that song, too."

"Oh, yeah?" he chuckles. "Do you mind singing it? I like it a lot more than 'happy birthday.'"

Natasha closes her eyes and begins to hum the nostalgic melody as pesky tears blur her vision. "Калинка, калинка, калинка моя! В саду ягода малинка, малинка моя…"

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading, everyone! The Russian song used in this chapter is called 'Kalinka' and the English lyrics used are as follows:**

**Little snowberry, snowberry, snowberry of mine!**  
><strong> Little raspberry in the garden, my little raspberry!<strong>

**Ah, under the pine, the green one,**  
><strong> Lay me down to sleep,<strong>  
><strong> Rock-a-bye, baby, rock-a-bye, baby,<strong>  
><strong> Lay me down to sleep.<strong>

**Little snowberry, snowberry, snowberry of mine!**  
><strong> Little raspberry in the garden, my little raspberry!<strong>

**Ah, little pine, little green one,**  
><strong> Don't rustle above me,<strong>  
><strong> Rock-a-bye, baby, rock-a-bye, baby,<strong>  
><strong> Don't rustle above me.<strong>


End file.
